


Tether Me

by ella_vellan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, D/s undertones, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Moderately Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Praise Kink, Relationship Negotiation, Soft BDSM, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ella_vellan/pseuds/ella_vellan
Summary: Shy and anxious librarian Sophie feels like a walking cliche. Too afraid of the world to experience it - and with unfortunate good reason - she's drifting through life like the good girl she is, abstaining from...well, everything.But she's tired of being a ghost in her own life.When she summons her courage to step outside her comfort zone, she has no idea just how far that one step will take her.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52





	1. The Opposite of Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is the first work I've ever posted to AO3, though not the first one I've written. Be gentle with me :) This is purely fluffy wish fulfillment fic for me and is totally unbeta'd.

What the hell had she been thinking?

The closing door echoed loudly behind her as she clamored into the blessedly empty hallway, the sudden fluorescent brightness blinding after the dark room she’d left. She stumbled down the hall, not knowing where she was going, her only goal to put distance between her and the door. Maybe find the exit. Find some blue sky and fresh air so she could breathe again.

But the inside of this place was a maze, and she was already turned around. This place was almost aggressively nondescript. 

The reverberating sound of the door opening behind her ratcheted up her panic. She tried to push herself into the wall, as though she could become one with it. _Hopefully it was just someone from the class taking a bathroom break_ , she thought. _They’ll walk by in a second and then I can go the opposite direction._

“Hey, wait,” said the last male voice she wanted to hear in that moment.

She cringed, burying her face in her shoulder, bracing against the wall like it could swallow her up and save her, gasping like a stranded fish. She heard his footsteps catch up and then felt him come near, his shadow falling on her. “Please,” she breathed. “I just want to be alone.”

He didn’t leave, though. She didn’t look at him – could only concentrate on her feet, on slowing her inhales – but after a beat, he said, in a voice so gentle she cringed inside. “I don’t think you’re in good shape to be alone right now, but I can find you a quiet place. Is that okay?”

 _Whatever, fine, just do it then go away._ She nodded, still unable to look at him.

“Can I put my hand on your arm?”

Admittedly she wasn’t very steady. She pushed off from the wall and nodded again, letting him guide her a short distance down the hall. Her struggling, shaking inhales sounded so loud. The walls were probably soundproofed. She couldn’t hear any sounds coming from the doors they passed. 

That was probably for the best.

He pushed open a door and ushered her into a darkened room, then onto a padded bench by the entrance. He sat beside her, not turning on the lights.

Her breath was still coming fast. She inched as far to the edge of the bench as she could, but it wasn’t enough. “Please, can you…”

Instantly he stood up, giving her breathing room. “Are you having an asthma attack? Do you have an inhaler I can get for you?”

She shook her head vehemently, hands fisted on her knees. “I’m okay. Really.” Her voice was breathy. She did not sound okay. She was on the edge, she knew, but it usually peaked and subsided before too long, once she got out of the situation that triggered the panic. Except that _he_ was still here. And the panic in her chest was still climbing, a sharp pain behind her sternum that she used to think meant she was about to die.

Now she knew better – knew it was just the vasovagal nerve triggering, knew the worst that would happen is that she might faint - but it still felt like what she imagined a heart attack would be like.

“I just…need…to be alone,” she said between gasps.

“I’ll be quiet and stay where I am,” he said softly. His voice was warm, calming, authoritative. Like someone talking to a dangerous animal. “Forget I’m here. Just gonna make sure you’re okay, then I’ll leave.”

This was _beyond_ embarrassing. She hissed out the words, having to take raspy breaths between them. “It’s a panic attack, that’s all. I’ll be okay in a few minutes. Longer…if you stay.”

She put her head between her knees, feeling the panic wash over her in waves. Fainting or throwing up seemed imminent and she couldn’t get over that while he was there. “I might throw up,” she warned, hoping that would push him to finally leave.

Instead, something was placed between her feet. An small, empty garbage can. She huffed a humorless laugh, and then shut her mouth again because now that her body had full permission to vomit, it very well might. She tried to breathe very slowly.

After a few minutes, the man’s hand rested lightly on the curved ridge of her spine. “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he murmured gently. His fingers lightly traced over the shape of her jutting vertebrae, comforting. “Feel the weight of your feet on the floor.”

She was too far gone to protest she knew that already. All that mindfulness stuff, the practices she learned in cognitive behavioral therapy– it didn’t really help her when she was in the thick of it.

It seemed to go on forever, but in the logic side of her brain, the part of her she clung to when the rest of her spiraled out of control – she knew that the neurochemicals that caused this fight or flight response couldn’t keep going at top speed indefinitely. She’d run out, regain homeostasis, downregulate. It would wane, as it always did.

The nausea started to ebb, and she slowly eased her way back to sitting upright, letting her head droop against the wall behind her and bracing her hands on her knees. She was drenched in sweat, chilled, her palms clammy, thighs still shaking.

“There you go,” he murmured again, having withdrawn his touch when she moved.

Finally her eyelids cracked open, knowing what she’d see. A handsome, masculine, strong-jawed man with a military-style buzzcut and gentle eyes that were either blue or gray – she hadn’t yet seen him in enough light to be sure. Strong arms crossed in front of his muscled chest, his gaze on her intense and concerned.

Jake Cooper.

The teacher for the Introduction to BDSM class she’d just escaped from.


	2. Intrigued

As soon as the young woman’s breathing began to slow, the tension in Jake’s shoulders eased. Once she lifted her head, he knew she’d likely come out of the worst of it.

But he still felt like garbage.

He’d seen novice subs tap out of the intro class plenty of times, of course. Usually, though, it was with a giggle of embarrassment, or a safeword and a look of unease before slipping away apologetically, realizing they weren’t into this stuff after all. Or they’d simply not return for next week’s session.

In the few years he’d been doing this, he’d never put someone into a panic attack before. Not in their _first class._

It was the most basic of introductions: definitions, terms, safety. Everyone was always fully clothed, the room kept dark and calming, no scary torture devices on display. They didn’t even schedule any other sorts of private sessions in the club on the same nights, so that nobody wandered accidentally into something they weren't ready for. 

The students who came to his class didn’t do so by accident. Usually, people who weren’t up for the sorts of things he taught self-selected out.

But he’d accidentally triggered this young woman somehow, and his instincts were driving him to take responsibility: get her safe, figure out where he went wrong, and make it right.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, licking dry lips. Her chest was still heaving, as though she’d been running from him. “I really… _really_ …didn’t want to make a big scene.”

He shrugged, offering her an easygoing smile despite his unease. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m usually fine once I can leave.” Her eyes darted towards the door. “I’m really sorry for disturbing your class. Please, I’m okay now. You can go back.”

He waved that away. “I got someone to cover for me. It’s fine. My concern right now is for you.”

Her eyes closed again weakly, and she winced. “I hate this. Making people think I’m having a medical emergency when really it’s just…” she didn’t finish, but circled her finger around her temple.

“Hey,” he said in protest. “I know about PTSD triggers. It’s serious stuff. Don’t disrespect yourself like that.”

Her brow knitted and she glanced at him, guiltily. “I know PTSD is serious. This…isn’t that. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized unnecessarily three times now. I don’t think you understand that I came out here to make sure you were okay because I wanted to, not because you made me. I don't do anything that I don't want to do. Except for taxes." That earned him a passing smile. "Now, can I sit next to you? Will you talk to me a moment? Or do you need some water first?”

It seemed to take a minute for her to process all of this, and she didn’t open her eyes once. “Water…would be nice. Thank you.”

He fetched her a paper cup filled with water from the fountain. She sipped it enough to be polite and then rested it in both hands, between her knees, like she couldn’t quite hold her arms up yet. Her breathing was still thready.

Since she hadn’t told him not to, he sat down next to her, still keeping space between them. “You don’t have to be ashamed of anything. I’m the one teaching the class, and it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone is comfortable – and that goes especially for beginners. I’m the one who’s sorry. Do you mind if I ask you a couple questions?”

She shrugged in a way he took to mean she didn’t care either way.

“Do you have any medical conditions I should be aware of? Heart problems? Medications?”

“No.” She flinched when she said it, but openly enough that he believed her.

“Was there something specific I said that triggered you? Or something I did?”

At this, she finally looked at him. She was blonde and fair, her lips especially pale after her attack. In the dark he couldn’t read the color of her eyes, but they were glassy and glistening. Her clothes were classic but elegant, like Audrey Hepburn: a black blouse and nice khakis that ended at her knees, with small diamond studs in her ears. She had delicate wrists and ankles. Her eyes had the purple shadows of sleeplessness, but she otherwise seemed hale.

Surreptitiously he’d checked out her bare arms while her eyes had been closed, looking for bruises. He hadn’t seen any, but that didn’t mean much. He of all people knew how easy they were to hide – and how to do it.

Sometimes, past abuse – or _current_ – could be a major trigger for people in places like this. And it wasn’t uncommon for people to seek submission in BDSM clubs like his when they’d had a history of trauma. Whether it was good for them or not. Brains often sought familiar behavior, healthy or not. 

“It wasn’t anything you said or did. Really. It was just…all the people. Being in there with everyone. In the dark.”

He nodded, though his brow creased. That wasn’t what he expected at all. “You’re claustrophobic?”

“A bit of this, a bit of that.” She gave him a wan smile. “I was already a little nervous coming here tonight anyway. It just became too much. It happens…kind of a lot for me.” She gave a rueful, mirthless breath of a laugh. “And here I was trying to be brave.”

He still studied her, a puzzle forming before his eyes. Why had she sought out his class tonight, with her hangups? Whatever it was, she’d pushed herself beyond her own limits – something most people found very difficult.

And something he found very, very interesting.

But he wasn’t about to pry into her private neuroses – not yet, anyway. “What’s your name?”

“Sophie. Thomas,” she added, as though she’d forgotten.

“Sophie…why did you come to my class tonight?”

She tilted her head back against the wall, sighing, as though she didn’t herself know. “That’s a good question.” She wetted her lips again with the water. “Do you have any other questions? I’m feeling better now. I just want to go home.”

“You’ll be able to get yourself home okay?”

“Yes, I’ll…Shoot!” she added, hitting her forehead with her palm. “My roommate – she was my ride. She’s in a more…advanced class. I was planning to wait for her to finish.” Sophie slipped her phone out of her pocket to check the time and groaned. “In another hour and a half.”

“Do you want to wait here for her? Or do you want me to drive you home?” The offered slipped out of his mouth without prior planning. He had to often reign in his caregiving instincts, because they tended to suffocate some women. Sophie’s obvious vulnerability – and the fact that she’d had such a reaction under his watch, when he usually took such care _not_ to inspire fear, brought his protective instincts to the fore.

The anxiety came back into her eyes, though she tried to smile. “You’re very kind to offer. But I’ll wait here. Or…figure something out.”

“They’re gonna need this room in about thirty minutes.” Jake’s plan was quickly forming in his mind, and he stood, offering her his hand. “Come on. It’s not a problem. If you’re worried about my class, don’t. It’s taken care of. It’s done.”

She looked up at him, a little fearful now. “No, really. You don’t have to.”

Ah, he could see her reasons now. Of course she wasn’t just going to hop in his truck with him, a stranger – and one that that she’d met at BDSM club, of all things. “Or I can get you an Uber. Your call.”

She blanched at that, for some reason, as though that were the worse option. Her lips parted, eyes darting from her phone to the door, indecisive. “I really shouldn’t say yes.”

“Sophie,” he said gently. “You’re not my sub, but you’re a newbie, and something happened under my watch that sent you running. I don’t like that. It’s not your fault, but it’s sort of a thing for me to make sure you’re okay.”

He smiled and nudged her. “Plus, it’s sort of in my best interest that you don’t hate your experience here. If I’m the reason you decide not to come back…” he shrugged, as if this was all in the name of customer service. Then he added a commanding tone to his voice. “This isn’t an overture. This is me making sure you’re safe. If you’d rather, I’ll get one of the women on staff to drive you. All the staff here have to complete a thorough background check, and there’s guards at the doors and cameras in the parking lot–-“

She held up her hand, stopping him. “Kiera told me you’re on of the best guys here,” she said quietly, her cheeks turning slowly pink. “That you have a really good reputation for…taking care of people. That’s why I chose your class. I suppose a lot of other people put a lot more trust in you than I am right now.”

He watched her expression carefully as he spoke, but she gave very little away. He was surprised at how much he was hanging on her answer.

Finally, she gave him a watery smile, and shyly slid her small hand into his. “Thank you.”


	3. Bad to Worse

Honestly, she just kept making bad choices.

He’d smiled when she’d taken his hand and helped her up. She was still somewhat shaky, but walking out to his truck, her fears started ramping up again. _You’re leaving here someone you just met. No matter what his reputation at this club, that’s still really stupid._

But Kiera had been coming here for months. She’d heard enough about Jake through the Kiera filter that she almost felt like she knew him.

Except he was so much _realer_ in real life.

When they got to his car, he stopped her and said, “Hey, why don’t you text your roommate and tell her I’m taking you home? You can take a picture of me and my license plate, if it helps.”

She’d studied his face after that, looking for signs of deception. His expression was open, reasonable. She didn’t get a creepy vibe from him at all – and she had a finely honed creep-meter. 

Maybe he really was just trying to put her at ease and wasn't about to drive her into the woods to murder her. 

She’d smiled politely and did just what he suggested, sending it to Kiera even though she knew Kiera’s class made her lock up her cellphone for the entire session. As a precaution, she sent the photo to her sister, too. No explanation necessary there. Her sister was always doing that before her dates, too.

Sophie had never needed to do the same.

She braced herself for a phone about to blow up with questions.

When the texts had gone through, he gave her a hand into his truck. It was deep red and tall enough she needed the boost. The inside was clean, new-smelling leather, and had enough space on the bench that a third person could have sat between them. He could barely even reach her from the driver’s seat. Not that he tried.

In fact, her hardly looked at her once they were both buckled in and he revved up the engine. Sophie slumped down in her seat, consumed by the guilt that he was going so out of his way. For _her._

_What a waste of his time she was being._

She murmured the name of her apartment complex and he nodded, pulling out into traffic. It was still early, and though it was already fully dark, the streets were clogged with people enjoying their Saturday night.

Sophie didn’t understand the motivation there. It had been a real struggle trying to convince herself to go out after dark tonight; she’d much rather be in her pajamas in her bed right now with her stack of bedside table books, and this whole embarrassing situation having been only a silly idea she'd quickly forget about, never having come to fruition.

Shy Sophie was the smarter Sophie. Shy Sophie kept her protected from incidents like _this._

She watched nervously for a few minutes to make sure he was taking the right streets, wondering again at herself and how she’d ended up in this situation at all. 

It was true that Kiera had talked up Jake Cooper more than any other dom she’d mentioned at the club the past few months. How great he was. How kind and gentle and incredibly, super hot. How everyone wanted to be his sub. She didn’t know much about him personally, but once Kiera had told her that Jake taught an intro class into being a submissive, she had to admit she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. It had taken her months to work up the courage to go with Kiera, and how long had she lasted? Fifteen, twenty minutes into the first class?

She was hopeless.

Jake _was_ intimidatingly handsome. Someone who in real life never would’ve seen her – whose eyes would slide past without ever touching upon her. Usually she had to get to know people to find them attractive, but he had such a masculine, friendly, welcoming energy, she instantly liked him despite her better instincts. She’d taken a seat near the back of the classroom, so she could be sure not to attract attention and also be closest to the door if she needed to make a getaway.

 _That_ was becoming alarmingly more common lately.

But from the back of the room, she could be reasonably confident in the dim light that he could barely see her, and she could enjoy watching him pace easily to and fro, and listen to his deep voice, and imagine his strong arms…

Doing what? She didn’t even know. She barely had formed the intentions of what she wanted from this experience.

All she knew was she definitely didn’t have a dominant bone in her body, and she’d been achingly curious for years as to what it might be like to be with someone who could take care of her in the unnamable way she’d imagined. Not having to make the first move. Not having to worry or think about what to do next. Giving in completely to someone she trusted beyond measure. Being told what to do by someone who _knew_ what they were doing.

She would never have come to one of these places alone. If it hadn’t been for Kiera…

He’d stunned her by following her into the hallway. She was long accustomed to moving through life unnoticed. She’d escaped from plenty of rooms for similar reasons without having to deal with someone _following_ her. 

Having his complete attention had been so embarrassing and too much – and his seeing her at her weakest made for such a damning first impression. She’d never live it down.

And despite what Jake had said, she definitely was never going back to that club.

Once he dropped her off, that was it – she’d never see him again.

That made her heart twinge a little, but it was for the best.

But she was definitely going to savor the way he’d sat next to her, calming her with that hand on her back, even though the memory of it still burned with embarrassment right now. She filed all those soft feelings away to delve into later. They’d probably last her the next several years.

He was so big – at least a foot taller than her, with broad, muscled shoulders. He’d been wearing a heather blue T-shirt from a police charity event dated five years ago. She’d stared at it while trying to get her heartrate under control, reading the letters over and over before they made any sense.

It had looked well-worn and soft. He’d smelled fresh, like from a shower, and his face…she had barely been able to meet his eye. Even now, in the car, she could only just manage to peek at his profile in the shifting light of passing cars. His square jaw, the confident set to his mouth, all the pleasant angles. She wondered what it must be like to move through life like that, scared of nothing, never questioning your right to take up space wherever you were.

“So what do you do for a living?” he asked, breaking the long silence and startling her.

“What? Oh. I’m…a librarian,” she said it a little abashed, though she didn’t know why it was something to be ashamed of. Maybe because it must have cemented how very vanilla she was in his mind.

“Yeah?” He seemed mildly surprised, but his tone was friendly. “That’s cool. You don’t meet one of those every day.”

She hadn’t expected that response. “Usually when people hear that, they either act surprised that librarians still exist, or they make some kind of lewd joke.”

He flashed a grin at her, white in the street light. “Yeah, I thought better of it. You like it? Being a librarian, I mean, not the lewd jokes.”

“Certainly not in it for the paycheck,” she said in a grumbling tone, surprised to hear him laugh. Why was she being so negative? She was still mad at herself. “I do. I love it. I work in the children’s department. Storytime, picture books, that sort of thing.”

She was used to downplaying it, but the library was her life. She was really proud of the work she did there, of the kids and families she got to know like they were her own. How good she was at finding just the right book for struggling readers, nurturing them, making the library a home for them, too.

They stopped at a red light, and he turned to her with a genuinely warm grin. “Hey, that’s awesome. That shit’s really important for kids. I bet they love you. They call you Miss Thomas?”

“Miss Sophie.” She tucked a smile into her shoulder so he wouldn’t see as the light turned green and he was momentarily distracted.

She couldn’t decide if he was being sweet to make up for tonight, or if he was just this kind to everyone. She was already feeling slightly better about messing up his night. He didn't seem terribly put out. 

She thought about asking him what _he_ did for a living, but, afraid that his answer might be “tie up and dominate women,” she thought she’d better not.

“Is that how you know Kiera?” he asked, saving her from having to think up a neutral topic on her own.

“Yes. She works with me. We met in college, actually. We moved in together when I started here.”

“You been in Austin long?”

“About two years. You?”

“All my life,” he drawled, purposefully exaggerating the Texas accent. He turned the wheel, flipping the signal off.

“I’m from Lubbock originally.”

She wanted to ask him something else about himself, but couldn’t land on a topic that was separated from the fact that he worked at a BDSM club, and couldn’t figure out how to make that not awkward.

Blinker on, he pulled into the parking lot of her complex and she lost her chance to learn anything else about him.

“It’s that one,” she said, pointing to the third building down. He idled into a parking spot, turned toward her, left the car running. She smiled at him, about to thank him one last time, her hand already on the door latch.

Then…

“Oh no.” She slunk down in her seat, trying to duck beneath the window. “Oh, no, no no.”

“What is it?” he asked, instantly alert.

“That car,” she whispered, though nobody but the two of them could hear. “At your ten o’clock. That green Camry with the lights off? Is there a man inside?”

He looked at her askance a moment, then peered into the darkness. “Yeah. Scrawny guy. Brown hair. Glasses?”

“Oh, God.” Fear punched her in the gut, the panic from earlier roaring back tenfold. “We have to go. Right now. Please.”

“What’s wrong? Where do you want me to go?”

“Anywhere away from here. Please please please. Just go!”

The terror in her voice pushed him into immediate action, and he did what she asked. Only when they were back out onto the main road did her heart rate start to slow.

Even though she couldn’t see anything of the cars in the dark, she kept turning back around to see if he was following them.

Jake kept glancing at her, too, and she could feel his suspicion. But thankfully he didn’t say anything else until he had pulled into a well-lit gas station parking lot, right in front of the entrance, industrial white light from the storefront bathing them both.

He shifted into park and turned his full attention on her. The look in his eyes was quite different than the one he’d had at her earlier panic attack: hard and laser focused with a tone to match. “Alright. Well. That just happened. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t even know where to start. She was edging towards panic again, her breath getting hard to catch.

“Okay,” he said again, with infinite patience, but less gentleness now. “I’ll start naming things and you tell me when I’ve got it right. Was that your boyfriend? Or ex?”

She shook her head hard.

“Your dealer?”

Sophie managed to glare at him, offended. “I do _not_ do drugs.”

His expression didn’t change. “Someone you owe money to?”

“No.” She breathed a long, deep sigh, realizing that he wasn’t going to stop until he knew the full story. “That was Donovan. He’s…well, he’s been stalking me. Um. Off and on. For...a few years.”

The faster she got it out, the easier it was. Even after all the times she’d told this story, it still felt absurd, like she was making it up for attention.

That’s certainly what that first police officer had thought when she'd filed the initial report. 

A moment of stunned silence.

Jake didn’t move, but somehow the air in the cab seemed electrified. “Go on,” he said, his voice low and tense.

“He had been a library patron. At my first job out of college,” she started, breathless, feeling like she was detaching from her body. “He was always a bit…different. But you meet all kinds when you work with the public, and he was generally okay. Better than some. for sure. Always brought his books back on time. I was nice to him – just, like, normal customer service nice.”

She took a shaky breath, again feeling the guilt that had chased her all these years. Had she been _too_ nice? Had she led him on? Had this all been her fault, not giving him the chance to talk to her like he’d always demanded?

“But he got it into his head that I was his girlfriend – or, or… he wanted me to be, or something. It started getting weird. I did what I could to discourage him. I told my boss, and got my schedule switched, and it seemed okay for a while.” This was all so much more than she had intended to unload on him, but she was running down a hill and couldn’t stop now. “We banned him from the premises. Then he’d call the library looking for me. Sometimes he’d call eight, ten times a day and my coworkers would have to pretend I wasn’t there. He’d threaten to kill himself if he couldn’t see me. Threatened to call the police on me for… I don’t know, absurd, made up reasons. Then he found my cellphone number, then my apartment address, and it just…snowballed.”

The tears were coming, hot and angry, and her breath was coming so fast now. She pressed her hands to her eyes and wished she could make this night just disappear. “He’s not really…well. I’m not sure what’s going on, but he’ll get help for a while and it will ease up. And then the calls start again. I’m completely unlisted everywhere and he still finds me. I finally just…moved away. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him in two years until tonight. I…I thought it was over. I’m sorry. I really am.”

Jake listened intently as she babbled, her words tripping off her tongue. “This is the first time since you moved to Austin?”

“Yes.”

“He ever threaten you?”

“Not…so much. Just wants to talk to me.” Her hands were flying all over the place as she spoke. “I don’t _think_ he’s dangerous or unstable, but he keeps showing up and he seems to be getting worse each time.” She paused to take a breath and tried to glean some clue from his face what he must be thinking of her. “I’m so sorry. You must be really regretting following me out into that hallway now.”

His expression shifted subtly. “Why?”

“Just…I…you probably weren’t bargaining to be airdropped into all the worst parts of a stranger’s life tonight.”

“No,” he said, and she shrunk a little at that. “But I’m here now, and I’m glad that I am. Luckily you and Kiera didn’t run into him tonight alone. Does she know about him?”

“Yes. Since the beginning.”

“Go ahead and text her, tell her he’s in the parking lot and to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

She was already getting her phone out to do what he said before asking, “Do you think he was waiting there to do something bad?”

“Certainly wasn’t anything good.” His voice was grim, and she noticed his left hand was gripping the steering wheel too tightly.

“He’s never been violent,” she said quietly, while texting Kiera. Then she sighed. “I know how I sound. But really, he isn’t well.”

“Sophie. Just the sight of his car tonight sent you into a panic. It doesn’t matter if he isn’t threatening you outright. You _feel_ threatened. Don’t excuse that. Ever.”

She closed her eyes, shutting off her phone, and took a deep breath. “I know. Trust me. I haven’t ever encouraged him.”

“I wasn’t saying you did. Do you have a restraining order?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s violating it. Does your building have security cameras?”

She huffed. “I doubt it.” At his upturned eyebrow she added, “The kind of place two librarians could afford? I really doubt it.”

He gave a short, decisive nod, all business now. “Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to call the police, report the violation, and then you’re gonna tell me where to drop you off that’s safe, because I don’t think you want to go back to your place tonight.”

She just blinked at him, stunned.

“What?” he asked, as though he genuinely didn’t understand.

“You keep saying “we,” but this is my problem. You barely know me. You don’t have to do any of this.”

The fire in his gaze was more intense now. “Sophie,” he said her name again, almost a warning. “I told you why I’m doing this. You don’t have to keep reminding me that I’m not obligated to be here. I’m choosing to be here, okay?”

She nodded, eyes still wide. She was breathing fast, but keeping it together. Just barely.

“Have you contacted the Austin police department about him yet?”

“Well, no – like I said - "

“You haven't seen him here yet. Got it.” He shifted around in his seat to retrieve his cell phone from his pocket, then dialed. “We’ll just have to start a new paper trail.”

“What are you –"

He lifted a finger to his lips. Then, as though to soften what might otherwise be taken as an order, one corner of his mouth quirked up just a moment until the person on the other end of the line picked up, then it was all business.

“Hey, Garcia,” Jake said. “Can you get some unis over to Maplewood Terrace apartments? Yeah. Violation on a restraining order. BOLO for a green ’06 Camry, license number…”

She stared at him, lips parted, as he recited the license plate number and listened for a few minutes to whatever the other man was saying. “It’s for a friend. I’ll take her statement myself. I don’t know. Has he ever been armed that you know of?”

This last bit was directed at her.

“Oh! Um. I don’t know. But we are in Texas, so…”

“Yeah,” he confirmed to the man on the phone. “True, better safe than sorry. Thanks, man. Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

His eyes hadn’t left hers the entire call. She swallowed, not sure what to think, as he hung up the phone and silence hung between them.

“So…you’re a cop?” she said, unnecessarily.

He didn’t smile, but somehow his expression was reassuring. He was measuring, assessing her. Did he think he was scaring her off? “A detective. But yeah. Is that better or worse than what you initially thought?”

At least the police shirt made sense now. “Not sure. You have a badge?”

He rearranged again to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket, flipping it open to show her his gold shield. She took it gingerly in his fingertips, examining his picture and the badge number. Then she nodded and pushed his hand back. “Thank you.”

“Feel better?”

Her mouth twisted a little, along with her gut. “You have a gun?”

“Locked in the glove compartment. I don’t take it in the club, but I keep it on me otherwise. That make you nervous?”

“Yes,” she said honestly.

“I rarely have to use it. I mostly work in a cubicle,” he said, having the grace to take her fear seriously. His voice gentled. “Listen. It’s getting late; your friend’s probably going to be finishing up soon. Where do you want me to take you?”

Her mind raced. Without knowing Kiera’s plan for the night, it was hard to say. “She might want to spend the night with her boyfriend. But…I don’t want to stay there. I don’t know him very well.”

It was sad to think she’d lived in this city for two years and couldn’t think of any other friends she could show up to on a random Saturday night and have them take her in. Most of her coworkers were as old as her mom – or grandma – and while she loved them, they had their own various problems and family situations and didn’t need to add her to them. Not that she ever wanted to share this part of her messed-up life with them. “Just the closest hotel, I guess.”

Concern etched his brow. “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. Your family, where are they?”

“Two hours away. And no matter what you say, you are not driving me that far.”

Jake smiled, a little grimly. “I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t want to freak you out. Okay?”

She nodded, nerves twisting in her belly. She kept searching the parking lot for the green Camry.

“You know I’m a police officer. I’ve been with the Austin Police Department for nine years. I have a spotless record and some commendations from the Mayor. I have no ulterior motives, and offering this isn’t a burden to me. Knowing all of that, Sophie, will you let me take you home with me tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few more chapters that need an editing pass before they're fit for human eyes - but comments will really help motivate me to get them posted *wink wink, nudge nudge*


	4. Friend Helping a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry! You'll get two today to make up for it. Shifting POV when I feel like it, not because it makes any logical sense :)

Jake actually saw the catch in her throat. 

She’d been through a rough night already, and he didn’t want to keep pushing her into situations where she was vastly uncomfortable. But it made logical sense. She was feeling unsafe and had nowhere to go. He had a spare room, a nice apartment, a secure building, and a gun. And he’d be able to keep her safe. 

Not that she knew that. Or trusted him.

Something told him she was about to refuse him outright. “Jake, that’s – really generous. But I honestly just…couldn’t.” Though her voice shook, her tone was heavy and final. 

He knew a hard limit when he heard one.

“Your other options seem to be sleeping around strangers anyway,” he replied easily, turning back to the steering wheel. “But okay. Your choice. Point me in the right direction.”

Seeing her hesitate, he held his hand out across the empty seat between them, palm up. “You’ve had a crummy night. I’m just offering a comfortable bed in a safe place, in your own room with a locked door, and the knowledge that I’m in the next room if you need anything. Okay? No strings attached. A friend helping a friend.”

Sophie shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “Why are you doing all of this when you just met me?”

“Admittedly, I do have a bit of a white knight complex,” he replied, giving her a self-effacing smile. It was true. “But especially for nice librarians who read stories to kids and have creeps that loiter in their parking lot at night."

She bit her lip, and he pressed his advantage.

"Tomorrow, I’ll drop you back at your place and take your statement before I go into work so you won't have to make a special trip. I’ll try to get some unis out front to keep an eye out for him, and hopefully we can get this guy for breaking the RO and put him away for a while. I'll do those last few things regardless of your answer. So. What do you say? Can I take you home with me?” 

Sophie glanced at her phone again. Kiera still hadn’t responded. 

After a few moments where he could practically hear the gears grinding in her head, she shyly slid her hand across the bench to wrap her fingers into his palm. “I’ll go with you.”

The touch of her slight, bony hand in his warmed him, lit some long-dark fire within.

"I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this." She sighed, slumping. "That's a lie. But I usually do hold it in better than this."

He laughed. “No apologies necessary.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t envision your night turning out like this.”

“No, but that isn’t a bad thing. I’ve let plenty of friends stay at my place when they’re in a tight spot. It’s not new.”

“But we  _ aren’t _ ...friends,” she said, slowly, as though trying to puzzle him out.

He shrugged. “Eh, you just needed some help a little earlier than most, but I don’t mind.”

He noticed as she hid a smile, and felt that warmth again. 

_ Reign yourself in, Cooper, _ he thought to himself. No flirting. No extraneous touching. She’d literally had a panic attack the first time he’d talked to her. 

If he actually tried anything with her, how much worse would she get? She had a hair trigger right now, and he had no clue what else could set her off. 

He needed to keep this strictly professional. No need to get complicated by thoughts of how to keep her smiling. 

As the ride wore on in silence, she slowly pulled her hand back into her lap. He moved his back to the steering wheel. He was used to intimacy with strangers; she obviously wasn't. 

He pulled into his apartment complex, pausing only to type in his code. He waved at the gate guard, pulled into the parking lot, and turned off the engine.

The quiet of the evening had fully descended on them, and in the muffled silence of the truck cab, it felt more intimate now.

She went for the door, but he forestalled her. “Wait just a second.”

Her whole body went tense as he leaned across the seat towards her and popped open the glove compartment with his key. He took out his holstered pistol and clipped it to his belt, letting the hem of his shirt fall loose over his waistband.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, sensing the edge that had gone into her breathing.

“Fine,” came her reply, and he couldn’t read her expression to know if that was a lie. She’d let a curtain of brown hair shield her face.

He wanted to reach out and put a steadying hand on the back of her neck like he’d done before. He didn't, though. “I don’t keep my gun in my car overnight. I trust this building's security, but not  _ that  _ much."

“I know. It’d be irresponsible.”

“Yep.” He leaned forward a little, trying to see her eyes. “If you feel like you’re going to have a panic attack – for whatever reason, the gun, me, whatever – just tell me. I’ll call your friend to come get you. You’re not stuck here with me. You can go anytime.”

Her eyes darted up at him, quick as two silver fish in the moonlight, and back down again.

He watched as her fingertips dug into her knees, and then it was like she consciously made herself relax them. She nodded and reached for the door handle.


	5. Probably Not a Serial Killer

Sophie followed him obediently up to his place, as silent as a shadow. Everything sounded extra loud, what with the world falling asleep around them: their steps in the concrete breezeway and up the stairs, his key sliding noisily in the doorknob. 

She didn’t know why he didn’t choose the elevator. Probably because of her. It was thoughtful, though. She wanted to tell him that she was fine with elevators, but that would’ve been a weird thing to just come out and say with no preamble. So she said nothing.

Sophie’s heart thudded as the door opened and cool air conditioning wafted over her, enveloping them, saving her from the humid summer air and soothing the nervous stickiness on her skin. She’d been surreptitiously wiping her hands on the front of her pants as they walked.

Somehow he’d known seeing the gun on him would trigger something bad in her. He’d given her an out. It was comforting to know Kiera was just a phone call away - able to remove her from a situation that had spun out of her control.

Because this? Sleeping at a stranger’s house? A strange _man,_ who had a gun, and was into BDSM? 

Was _not_ a thing she did. Like ever. 

Literally, she had never gone home with a stranger.

She hadn’t even really been allowed to sleep over at friend’s houses as a kid. Definitely never with a boyfriend, precious little there had been of _those._

The world was full of dangers, and her anxiety – even more than her own parents – had kept her from ever getting too close to any of them.

Until now, of course. 

And yet, as fearful as she was beneath the surface, it wasn’t of Jake. He had a warm, safe energy, and had done everything possible to make her feel comfortable. She trusted Kiera’s long knowledge of him. That gold shield had been genuine. Her gut, which she rarely trusted because it had a tendency to overreact, actually felt like this might end up okay.

And just in case, she had a GPS tracker on her phone that updated in real time, so her closest contacts would know where she’d last been if she didn’t show up for work tomorrow. That helped.

He closed the door behind them, dropped his keys into a dish, and flipped on the lights. She made a small, startled gasp. It was an exceedingly nice apartment – she had noticed that much from the beautiful exterior – but his place was not what she expected. Masculine, Spartan, and yet beautiful, it was all navy and brown, steel and leather and wood, yet somehow still comfortable, sleek, and welcoming. 

“This is so nice,” she murmured politely, to cover for her reaction. _Way_ nicer than her place, with her Ikea furniture and hand-me-down couch and broken bookshelves stuffed to bursting.

He eyed her sidelong, as if waiting to see her reaction. “Yeah? Thanks. Can’t take the credit though. Friend of mine’s an interior designer. When she was getting started, she needed some examples for her portfolio, and of course, I wanted to help out…” he grinned, gesturing. “Couldn’t likely have afforded her otherwise, on a public servant’s salary. She let me keep most of the stuff as a thank you.”

“She’s very good,” Sophie said, moving towards the large leather sectional that took up the majority of the living room. A flat screen TV perched on the navy wall in front of her, and to her right, above the couch, was a long window with a lovely view to a manmade lake, reflecting a pale spot of ruffled moonlight. On the other side of the room was a galley kitchen, lights off and dark, but the chrome appliances glinted and the black countertops were spotless. “I don’t believe you, though. This apartment is way nicer than mine, and I’m a public servant with a master’s degree.”

Laughter bubbled out of him, surprised and pleased. “You have a point. Maybe I am a little better off than I let on, but that’s a fairly recent change. She left the guestroom alone, though,” Jake said without dwelling on that last particular point. 

He gestured for her to go ahead of him to the first door on her left, past the TV. Straight ahead, at the end of the hall, was another closed door - his bedroom, she assumed.

He hadn’t been lying. The guestroom was plain, unchanged from its apartment starter kit, with its beige walls, and boasted only three furnishings: a full-sized bed, a nightstand, and a multifunction exercise bench. The bed was made with military-precise hospital corners and was covered by a faded homemade quilt. She ran her hands over it and took note of the hand stitching, a few loose threads tickling her fingertips. Usually guest room linens smelled dusty, but these were freshly scented of Tide. 

The details of that bed made her like him a little more.

“The bathroom’s through there,” he said, pointing. It was a private bathroom, to her relief, and fully stocked.

After she’d gotten her bearings, she met his eyes again and realized with a start that he’d been watching as she evaluated her surroundings. He’d stayed by the door, and looked almost…nervous? Did he think she’d find the accommodations humble? “Thank you so much for this,” she said quietly, guilt and nerves biting into her equally.

Though she still didn’t think he was a serial killer, it wasn’t _impossible._ And either way, he was a stranger.

He only smiled, warm and friendly, and it helped take the edge off. “I’m not much of a cook, but I can microwave something for us. I’m starving. You have any preferences? Allergies?”

She shook her head. “Anything’s fine.” She actually _was_ a picky eater, but she’d suck it up. Not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He gave a nod, hesitating. “I’ll leave you alone then. Would…you need to shower? There’s soap and stuff in the bathroom, if you feel so inclined. I can get you some old clothes to sleep in?”

She smiled politely, though it was beginning to hurt to do so. “Thank you. That’d be nice.” She wasn’t sure she’d feel comfortable being naked here, but she’d decide that when alone.

With a last, kind smile, he left her alone in the room. She exhaled, feeling the tension finally leave her body. She hadn’t been alone for what felt like hours and her introverted self was beyond taxed.

She walked slowly around the room, evaluating. Running her hand along the soft, worn quilt, admiring its complexity and careful stitching. 

There was framed photo collage on the wall that seemed to display pictures of a younger Jake with friends, fishing at the lake with an older man, at a swimming competition mid-stride, smiling with his arm around a pretty girl, and in group shots with what looked like college friends. 

After another glance at the bathroom, noting its clean countertop and fresh towels, and the well-stocked drawers full of a variety of hotel toiletries, she decided a quick shower would help wash the fear sweat off and calm her down enough to _maybe_ sleep.

She stayed in there longer than she’d intended to be, the warm water helping to drown out her nervous thoughts. 

What had Donovan been up to tonight? How had he found her again? She’d have to re-evaluate all her possible online presences - which were almost entirely scrubbed, but things popped up every now and again. And was she ever, ever going to be able to stop looking over her shoulder?

Well, at least for tonight, she was safe. There was no way he’d know she was here. 

When she peeked out of the bathroom, she found the guest room empty, but with a set of clothes folded neatly on the end of the bed. 

After locking the door, she dressed in the clothes he’d given – probably the smallest he had: a very worn white t-shirt with faded lettering that she couldn’t quite read, and black basketball shorts that she had to roll the waistband down a few times so they wouldn’t fall. She kept her bra on, since it was wireless and easy enough to sleep in, but the shirt occasionally slipped down over one shoulder enough to reveal its strap. She’d never been blessed enough in that arena to require extra support. Oh, well. 

She didn’t have a hairbrush, so she detangled as best she could with her fingers and let it air dry.

Once dressed, she glanced at her phone, finally seeing messages from Kiera.

“OMG!!! You’re with Jake?? LUCKY GIRL. He’s so HOT” was the first one, obviously in response to her photo of Jake beside his truck. “And so very dominant. I hope that meant class went well! ;)”

Then, in a very different tone: “OMFG. That psycho. Are you sure you’re okay? Call me and I can come get you. I’ll sleep over at Jaxon’s just for tonight, but seriously, call.” Lots of angry face and fire emojis. “Otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow, love. Be safe.” Kissy face.

She texted back: “It’s okay, I’m fine now. Jake called the police and I’ll file a report in the morning, then he said he’ll take me home. Love you too.” She hoped Kiera would be too distracted to notice she’d left off mentioning where she was spending the night.

As soon as she’d pressed send, she realized - why hadn’t she just asked Kiera to come get her? 

But she already knew the answer. Because this was the most exciting thing that had happened in her life in a long time. Because she was being brave and it was actually going okay. 

Because she liked being around Jake and didn’t want to leave. Because once she did, she’d never see him again. 

Hair still dripping, she gingerly edged out into the hallway, hating how frightened she was to simply exist in this space. Jake had invited her here, and had been more than kind. Why did she always have to move through life like a hunted rabbit?

He was sitting at the small kitchen table, eating a bowl of whatever he’d heated up for them and reading his phone. The lump where he had tucked the holster was gone; he must have put it away in his room. But otherwise he was still dressed the same. She relaxed an iota.

He perked up at her entrance, eyes sweeping over her body in a swift glance, making note of her change of clothes. She wished the shorts didn’t feel so short. 

Then he was gesturing for her to sit. Her legs felt strangely bare, too comfortable and casual and revealing around him, while he still wore his clothes from the day. “Hey. Feeling better?”

She nodded. She felt scrubbed free of the disaster of the night, and sleepiness was dulling her edges.

“Want a drink?” he asked, pouring a glass of red wine for himself. “I have harder stuff, too, if you’d rather.”

He’d misread her. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

That made him tilt his head a little, examining her anew. “Judging by how offended you got when I asked about your dealer, I assume you’re not a recovering alcoholic.”

She gave a nervous little breathy chuckle, settling into the seat across from him. “No. I honestly just don’t like it. Tastes like jet fuel no matter what I try. Plus it triggers my migraines.”

She cringed inwardly as she said it, feeling like a kid, but he nodded like that was something normal to say. 

“Ah. Got it. None for you, then. How about a Jack and Coke? Can’t taste the alcohol so much that way.” He eyed her again, up and down, suddenly hesitating. “You… _are_ over twenty-one, aren’t you, Sophie?”

She raised her eyebrows and burst into laughter. “Seriously? I’m twenty-seven, thanks very much.” There was that self-effacing smile again. Wait - was he _blushing_? No, it was definitely the wine.

“Hey, you know. Gotta check.” 

“Uh-huh. Sure. Cop thing, right? And actually...sure. I’ll take one.” The Coke might keep her up, but it sounded good to settle her stomach. And the Jack might help her not care so much about what a mess tonight turned out to be.

He grinned, getting up to make her a drink with a splash of whiskey, laughing at himself. “Sorry if I offended. You just look…” then thought better of finishing as he handed her the drink.

She knew she had that look. Like a kid playing dress up – especially now in clothes that were too big and face clean of makeup. She’d always been pale, with lips that practically _required_ lipstick. Her freckles had faded after years of religious sunscreen, but there was still something about her that made even her library patrons ask her what grade she was in years after she’d graduated. “Fair’s fair. Now you have to tell me how old you are.”

He took a sip before answering, lips puckering at the bitterness of the wine. “Thirty-three.” She made a face, and he laughed. “Sorry, I can’t help being an old man.”

“It’s not that. I know it’s not a big difference, but…you just seem like you have life a lot more figured out than I do.”

Jake sobered, considering her over his wineglass. She tried to figure out what he was staring at so long, but finally it was too much and she had to break her gaze away without coming up with an answer.

“So what kind of detective are you?”

He hesitated before answering. “Homicide.”

“Oh, my God.” 

“Are you going to freak out on me again, Thomas?”

“No. That’s just...wow. So you're like, the opposite of a serial killer."

His eyes were laughing at her. “Pretty much. But it's way more boring than it looks on TV."

They chatted, friendly-like, as they ate and drank, casual small talk about the duller aspects of his dayjob. To hear him tell it, policing at his level was a lot of paperwork, phone calls to chase down leads, and court dates. 

But the more he spoke, the more she admired him. His composure, how he put her at ease, and how competent he seemed at his job. She could see how Kiera would be jealous of her right now, despite the circumstances that led her here.

Her eyes flitted behind him occasionally while he spoke, taking in his space, trying to puzzle the man together. Not too many personal effects or artwork here. He didn’t sound like he spent much time at home.

One small abstract painting hung above them, along with an artsy metal sculpture of a light fixture. It seemed his backdrop was more style than substance, something he hadn’t cared much to change from his friend’s interior design staging. It was well done, but impersonal.

Most telling was the two extra heavy-duty deadbolts he’d installed on the door.

Her eyes must have lingered a little too long on them, because Jake glanced behind him at what she was looking at and understood immediately. “You’re safe,” he assured. “With a guard at the gate and a passcode required, plus the extra security I’ve installed, nobody’s getting in here short of a SWAT team. And even if they got in, they’d have to deal with me first.”

His eyes hovered on her a little while longer, appraising and concerned. “Those deadbolts aren’t for you, Sophie. I’m enjoying your company, but if you want to go home, just say the word.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a grateful smile. “I’m never going to stop feeling guilty for this, you know.”

His voice dropped to a more serious octave. “Oh, no, don’t do that. You see how much effort went into dinner. It’s not like I’m doing anything different than I normally would on a Thursday night.”

“You normally bring home strange girls from your BDSM club?” she asked teasingly, and then regretted the words immediately.

Because it suddenly made sense. The fresh sheets. The well stocked guest bathroom. 

She could've kicked herself.

His grin was wolfish. “Yeah, maybe I do. But other than that, it’s not like I’m bending over backwards here. It’s nice having company.”

“I made you miss your class.” The heat from the whiskey was warming her chest, making her muscles feel loose and easy. The compliment about enjoying her company wasn’t helping. It was dangerous, this feeling. 

He shrugged like he really didn’t care. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Most of those people probably won’t be back next week, anyway.”

She went quiet at that, wondering if he meant her, too. “Why is that, you think?”

“Oh, various reasons. They were just curious and one class was enough to sate that curiosity. They dared each other to go. Maybe they thought they were into BDSM because they like reading about it, but the reality was too much – or it was all they needed to get the dose of excitement they were looking for. Or people just plain don’t react to it like they thought they would. There’s probably a 97% no-show rate after the first couple of weeks. “

She went a little cold inside. “That must be tough on your ego.”

He laughed as though he really found her clever and amusing. “No, I know it’s not me. If anything, some people stay in the class longer than they would otherwise because of the way I ease into stuff. That’s not ego talking by the way, that’s some actual comments I’ve gotten. And it’s fine, anyway, because I teach other classes too.”

She was ashamed at how fast her eyes darted up to look at him and then retreated. “You do?”

“Yeah. More advanced stuff. The pay’s better, too. I just do beginner classes because I like them. I’m good at it.”

Was he goading her now? Leading her to talk about the thing she didn’t know how to talk about? She didn’t have the words. Wouldn’t be able to say them if she did.

She didn’t dare look at him for a few minutes, until the silence became unbearable. She looked up to find his gaze steady on her.

“Still don’t want to tell me why you’re interested in BDSM, Sophie?”

 _Shit_ , she thought. She almost never cursed out loud, but in her thoughts, sometimes things slipped. Her averted gaze gave him the answer.

“Can I tell you what I see?” She made a noncommittal gesture, too embarrassed to even meet his eye, and he went forward. “I see someone who has some submissive tendencies and is curious about expressing them, but... maybe has some emotional baggage that isn’t any of my business. Maybe she thinks it’s a dealbreaker. It’s not, for the record.” 

She took in a deep, steadying breath.

“People seek this out for a variety of reasons. You think your panic attacks preclude you from liking what you like, but it’s just something to work through, like anything else.”

“I don’t know what I like,” she said quietly.

“That’s fine,” Jake said, and his voice had dropped too. Her face was burning, her dinner forgotten. Jake’s knees came into her vision as he scooted his chair closer, so they were almost touching. “It’s a learning experience. Few people come into this knowing exactly what they want.”

“Why do you do it?” Sophie asked, and again instantly regretted asking. She couldn’t even blame the whiskey, as her drink was still mostly there. “I’m sorry. That’s personal. I don’t need to know.”

He was quiet for a minute, and Sophie wished she could shrink, become invisible. “I like being in control,” Jake said, choosing his words with deliberate care, as though to avoid a minefield of complicated terms that might scare her off. “It comes down to that, really. The words, the tools. Matching them to the person. Finding what they need. What makes them… I like pushing someone close to what they think they can take. I like being responsible for someone’s pleasure. Maybe some of their pain, too. And you know how I like to take care of someone – someone who needs what I can give. Being able to fulfill exactly what is needed. Being useful. Knowing how to play a person’s desires and needs. Taking care of them afterward. I like all of it.”

She was quiet a long time, digesting this. The words bounded around inside her head and she forgot he was there for a minute, lost in thought. 

Finally he said, “Ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His voice was low and so close. She flicked her eyes to his and found them to be burning coals, intense and focused entirely on her.

“Why do you like hurting people?”

“Why do I like… _Jesus,_ Sophie.”

Instantly abashed, she averted her gaze again. “I’m sorry. That was…”

He sighed, reaching out to touch her hand in a reassuring squeeze before letting her go again. His tone gentled. “No, that’s not what I meant. This whole time you’ve been sitting here having dinner with me and thinking that? Fuck. No wonder you’re scared of me.”

Her face burned like the surface of the sun. Tears sprang to her eyes, so she closed them. _God. I’m such a screw up._

“It’s not that I like _hurting_ people, exactly. Some people do get off on it, sure. I’m not necessarily in it for that. Sometimes I give people one kind of pain in order to take away another. What I like is pushing someone up against the boundaries of what they think they can endure, of what they think they can’t handle, and edging them past it. Showing them that they _can_ . Like – training for a marathon,” he said, struggling for a vanilla metaphor. “It’s hard. It hurts, early on, when you’re starting out. Pushing your body past its limits. But it makes you stronger. You learn you can go beyond what you thought was possible. Pain can also ground you. Make your focus zero in on what’s happening and forget everything else. It’s intense. It’s really, really personal to share that with someone else. That’s what does it for me. But I’m not going to hurt _you,_ Sophie.”

She was stunned into silence, surprised by the heat in her face and the tightness that had coiled somewhere deep and unknowable. His voice had put her almost into a trance.

Her breath wasn’t coming anymore. She was searching for it, growing weak without it.

“You’re freaking out,” he murmured gently, easing out of her space.

“At this point, freaked out is just my normal state,” Sophie murmured, and he laughed quietly.

“I’d love to keep talking about this with you,” he said quietly. “But not tonight. I think you’ve dealt with enough.”

It was a dismissal, a shut down of the conversation. A glimpse at him doing what he said he liked best – controlling the situation.

And she, according to type, was more than happy to let him.


	6. Two A.M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally finished this chapter too instead of doing the actual writing I have due this week. whoops. 
> 
> (But something finally happens! yay!)

Jake opened his eyes suddenly, heart racing with some forgotten threat of danger. But it was still hours til dawn, and he couldn’t discern any looming threat in the darkness.

Then a flicker of blue light from outside his bedroom door caught his attention. Without thinking he jumped out of bed, remembering belatedly that Sophie was sleeping over.

He snuck up on her, finding her curled up on the leather couch watching television with the sound almost all the way down. That explained the flickering light. “Couldn’t sleep?”

She jumped a little, and he reached over to grab a faux fur throw blanket to drape over her. She looked small in his too-large clothes, like a kid caught waiting up for Santa. She snuggled into the blanket and smiled up at him gratefully. “Thank you. No, I’m sorry. I tried not to wake you.”

She was whispering, voice a little hoarse from disuse. As though they weren’t the only two in the apartment. 

He settled down beside her, realizing too late that he’d forgotten to throw on a shirt in his haste. The leather was cold against his back. Some old black and white was on the TV, set on the oldies station. “You like cop shows?”

“I like police procedurals,” she corrected primly, as though the distinction was important. “And this is Adam-12. I used to watch it with my dad. It’s from the 60s so it’s super sexist, but I liked it before I noticed any of that.”

He laughed, and to his surprise, she sort of cuddled up against him. She lifted a corner of the blanket for him to share. Then they were nuzzled together in a small cocoon of its furry warmth.

“So that’s why you agreed to come home with me,” he murmured, but she shushed him.

God. His brain was still half-asleep, which meant his mental walls against - doing _all_ of this - were still down. Her body was warm against his bare side, and his cock was taking notice.

He’d managed to keep it together all day – she’d been in various states of rescuing since he’d met her, which usually got him going but was also a big Do Not Pass Go sign in her case – but now she was warm and sleepy and soft and pliant next to him. 

She’d be such a sweet submissive, he could already tell. All blushes and smiles and quiet obedience, needing only a gentle hand to learn what to do. He took in a shaky breath and tried to will those thoughts away. Tried to focus on the show.

This girl was skittish as a wild horse, and out of her element, and had placed a shaky trust in him – and was also possibly tipsy, as she’d finished the last of her Jack and Coke a couple hours ago and looked like she had zero tolerance to it at all.

“You’re not married or anything, are you?” Sophie asked him in a small voice, muffled against his shirt.

He huffed a laugh, surprised. “No.”

“Dating? Seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“No romantic commitments…at all?”

He smiled, and slowly reached his arm around her curled-in shoulders, bringing her more firmly against his side to secure her warmth against him. It was more comfortable this way, that’s all. That should surely be allowed, right? “None at all.”

She nodded against him, her silky and shampoo-scented hair tickling his shoulder. “That’s good.”

He was about to ask her the same, when she spoke again.

“That guy? Reed? I like him,” she said, pointing a finger at the TV without extending her arm outside the warm nest they’d made. “But in season two, he just drops his wife off at the hospital to have their baby and goes into work like normal. Crazy times.”

He huffed a laugh again, enjoying the easy familiarity they'd suddenly adopted. She’d seemed to let her guard down. What had changed?

And what had awoken her at – he checked the clock in the kitchen – two a.m.? He could hazard plenty of guesses. Maybe she hadn’t slept at all.

The glimpse of her life that he’d had today, it made sense why she might have sought solace at the club. He could already see a path ahead of her: how she could learn to let go and trust someone, bring her focus to a point where nothing else mattered. Where she could face fear and find herself stronger than she knew. How he could help lead her there. 

He shook those thoughts loose. _Stop it. We’re leaving her alone, remember?_

Seeing her earlier, freshly showered, his clothes hanging loose on her lovely body, with her long, bare legs. He’d wanted to fist a hand in her hair and coax her mouth open against his, hear her gasp, slip his hand between her legs and up through that silky material…

God, he _had_ to stop.

They’d formed some sort of comfortable connection. This alone was nice, and more than he'd expected. A moment of trust he couldn’t betray. 

The show went to commercial, and he realized he had no idea what had been happening at all. 

“Do you want to talk about why you can’t sleep?” he murmured into her ear over a commercial for some kitchen cleaner.

She flinched reflexively at his words, as though his breath had tickled her. She shook her head without looking away from the TV.

“Is my being here helping?”

She nodded against his shoulder, golden strands of her hair getting caught in his stubble.

So he let himself relax, just holding her, and told his lower brain to shove it. He watched the show. It was actually pretty engaging, and it interested him to see how far policing had come in sixty some-odd years. And how some things could definitely still be improved upon.

When the episode segued into another, the sleepy bubble around them seemed to shift, alter, and become more charged. She didn’t seem to be paying as much attention this time. And she became restless, shifting ever so slightly, as though she couldn’t get comfortable. Her eyes kept darting up at him, nervous.

Fuck.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He was either going to have go back to bed, or do... _something._

He whispered, “Do you want me to leave?”

She shook her head wordlessly.

He counted the seconds, stroking her bare shoulder with his fingertips. One sleeve of his too-large shirt had slipped, exposing her freckled skin, and he definitely wanted to trace that neckline down just to see where it would go...

 _Fifteen, twenty…_

He was going to do it or he was going to explode. He turned to look at her straight on, whispering. “Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes slid closed on an inhale and a shudder seemed to run through her. She was quiet a long time, the whole while he spent kicking himself.

Then she nodded. Slowly. Without opening her eyes. 

That wouldn’t do.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes slid open, unreadable in the dark. Feeling like his chest was breaking open, he slipped his free hand around the curve of her cheek, finding her skin irresistibly soft. He cradled the base of her skull in his palm with a firm grip, and bent to kiss her.

She was still at first - frozen like a deer in headlights - until he increased the pressure of his lips and kept her head immobile in his hand so she couldn’t run away this time. _It’s okay,_ he was trying to say to her. _It’s safe. You can let go. I'll keep you safe._

Then a breathless urgency entered her kiss - only to be just as quickly stilled. As though she had embarrassed herself at her wanton behavior.

But no, he wanted more of it. He groaned at the tantalizing taste of her enthusiasm, felt her shiver, and licked her mouth open. 

Dazed, she followed his lead and allowed him access, as he expected she might - his tongue slipping into her mouth, teasing. His teeth hand slipped down her throat, fingers tracing over the hollow of her throat before descending to cup her breast firmly in his palm.

She gasped at that, but he didn’t let her go, capturing her mouth again. He didn’t want to give her a chance to overthink this. 

He pressed into back into the couch, angling himself more in front of her as he molded the shape of her and felt her breast peak. 

He felt like he was feasting after a long fast, drinking from her mouth, squeezing her soft flesh until she might have felt the edge of pain. But she only gasped and writhed under him, saying nothing, until…

“Wait.” She tore her mouth from his, burying her face in his shoulder. “I can’t.”

His hands stilled. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Yes. N-no. I I don’t know. Not really. Just… yes. Stop.”

Confused or not, she’d called it. He took his hands and lips away, only leaving the one around her shoulders as he’d done before. “That’s fine,” he breathed, even though his groin ached in frustration. “I shouldn’t have done that. I took advantage. I’m sorry.”

She settled back against him, her muscles still stiff and relaxing slowly. “It’s okay,” she whispered, still breathless. “I…liked it.”

He stifled a groan and held her, glad at least he hadn’t messed _that_ up. He was dying to talk to her - to apologize again for his loss of control, which really was inexcusable. But she decidedly was _not_ looking at him, and he’d pushed her boundaries quite enough.

They watched the end of the show, and then she yawned, slipped out from underneath his arm, and demurely bid him goodnight.

\---

In the morning, he drove her to the police station to have a sergeant take her report. That part, he decided, needed to _not_ involve him. Not after the way he’d behaved last night. 

Then he drove her back home, taking great pains to ensure there was no green Camry parked anywhere in the complex. The drive was quiet and awkward, and her hands remained tightly knitted in her lap the entire time. His gut felt twisted up in knots. This was _his fault._

He walked her to her door and waited as she fumbled with her keys. 

_Do it now,_ he thought, _before you lose your nerve or she disappears behind that door forever_.

He caught her elbow gently just as she came upon the right key. ““Hey,” he murmured. “Can I ask you something? Your answer won’t influence the handling of your report, just for the record – it’s being handled by a different department than mine.”

Confusion knitted her brow. “Go for it.”

He took her hand, feeling oddly nervous. When was the last time he was nervous like this? “Will you let me take you out to dinner sometime?”

Eyes wide, surprised, she said, “Really?” At his nod, she still looked confused “ _Why_?”

She really had no idea, did she? “Because I want to see you again.”

Her eyelashes fluttered in confusion. 

He had to suck it up and make this right. “Look, I’m so sorry about last night. I fucked up and crossed a boundary, and trust me when I say I do not make a habit of that. It won't happen again. I understand if you say no. Let me take you out to dinner. I just... don't want this to be the last time I see you.”

The blush spread across her cheeks and he just caught a glimpse of her smile before she ducked her head. “I…. I work most nights and weekends...“

He grinned wryly. “So do I. Just tell me when you’re free. I can pick you up.”

He waited so long for an answer that he bent down as if to kiss her again, touching the back of her hand gently. Instead, he whispered, inches from her lips. “Please say yes.”

His heart was actually pounding.

Then, the quietest sound he’d ever heard.

“Yes.”

He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her flushed cheek. “It’s a date.”


	7. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could use more editing, but uhh I wanted to go ahead and get it posted. Believe it or not this was supposed to be a PWP but my brain just loves a slow burn I guess 😂
> 
> I appreciate the comments and kudos!!

Sophie’s whole body shook.

She hadn’t thought he meant it, the offer of dinner. He was only being sweet. She’d dated a little bit in school, had a couple of longish relationships, but her dating life had slowly dried up since moving into the working world. Men her age had either settled down young, or were looking for something that...wasn’t her. 

She hadn’t lied about her schedule. Being young and single, she often worked the late nights and evening shifts, even some holiday weekends, so her co-workers with kids and grandkids could have those hours at home.

Being on opposite schedules to most other adults did hamper a nightlife, which was fine with her – she’d far rather sit at home with Kiera watching TV in the evenings and unwinding than spending a couple hours doing her date routine: extra long shower, actually styling her hair, putting on the makeup she’d had for years without replacing, and spending hours with a nerve-wracking sick feeling in her gut, waiting to get picked up for a date.

Would the guy actually show? Would they have anything to talk about? Would he put something in her drink and drive her out into the woods, never to be heard from again?

You know, all the typical first date fears.

So she’d planned from the outset to just…forget about Jake. _And_ his offer.

He had been so sweet, and so careful with her. She decided to just enjoy the memory of him sitting shirtless and dangerous beside her, his skin hot and smelling like faded cologne, breath-stealingly sexy in the dark. He’d _kissed_ her. It had been the most romantic moment of her _life._ She hasn't realized til later how very dangerous that situation was. In his home, under his rules, anything could've happened _._

If she had been braver, maybe it could have.

He had asked permission. He’d had her in his place, in his _clothes_ , and he still hadn’t assumed she wanted to kiss him.

It was the reason she’d said yes to dinner. The glimmer of hope that maybe she could trust her instincts. Trust him.

But she’d let herself get distracted with the worry over Donovan, looking over her shoulder every ten minutes, and wondering about the status the police report, and then she fell back into work routines and talked herself out of it. 

He didn't really mean it. It was an offhand comment. He'd already forgotten her existence.

Days after he’d asked her out, after a long and busy weekend at work filled with successful kids programs that left her drained but happy, after she considered texting him at least fifteen times and thought better of it each time, _he_ texted _her._

“How about Monday night for dinner?”

Her heart had leapt, seeing his name on her screen. She’d made herself wait five full minutes before responding - down to the _second._

“I work until 6, is that okay?”

Him: “Sounds good. Want me to pick you up at work?”

She thought about it. She’d be without transportation, but the idea of him driving her was more appealing than finding her way alone and in the dark, finding a parking space, walking back to it alone after dinner…

“Sure, thank you,” she wrote back. “Though I’ll be in work clothes, so nothing fancy.”

She debated that last part quite a while before deleting it. Didn’t want him to think she assumed dinner would be fancy. He was a cop, after all, and probably didn’t make a whole lot more than she did – both of them being city employees in their very different ways, even though she was pretty sure detectives made a decent living.

She found herself looking forward to Monday, which was a new thing for her.

Dinner was surprisingly lovely. He didn’t seem to mind her standard-issue cardigan and khakis, and the restaurant – a fairly run of the mill Italian chain – had a nice atmosphere that didn’t make her feel out of place.

He was a blessedly good conversationalist, saving her from two of her most dreaded fears: awkward silences and the long, nervous ramblings that poured out of her to avoid said silences.

She nervously kept her hands in her lap, fearing he might take the opportunity to touch her. Not that _that_ idea was so terrible. But she could hardly stand the awkward attempts, and always seemed to mess it up when her date wanted to put his arm around her or hold her hand.

He asked about her, and actually seemed to listen to her answers. She was able to volley his polite questions about her upbringing back to him.

He was raised by a single mom. She died of breast cancer last year – her life insurance and a bit of inheritance had been what allowed him to buy the nice apartment outright. 

Sophie could feel her heart start to get way too attached, way too quickly.

He had one sister, a twin, who lived the next state over. He liked running, and dogs, and hiking.

Sophie started to wilt a little as he described a kayak trip he had taken with some buddies a few months ago.

Oh, she still smiled, nodded, and listened with genuine interest. But she knew she was not going to be the kind of person who went kayaking with him. The outdoors were lovely, and she liked nature; but she did not, and had not ever desired, to engage in such risky endeavors as hiking, camping, or kayaking.

She did not tell him this.

She told him about her family: her sisters, both younger, one still in school. Her parents, who still lived in Lubbock and had boring, steady jobs. Briefly about her time at school, and the most interesting parts of her job that she could think of.

That was about all there was to her. She’d graduated from college, gotten a job, and…stopped.

Stopped having new experiences. Too afraid of the world, and most especially of seeing a certain face that continued to dog her shadow, to do much beyond shopping and the occasional movie. Even her hobbies - houseplants and quilting - were those of a Victorian spinster.

“I read a lot,” she said, almost apologetically, with a self-effacing shrug. “I know that must be a shocking revelation to you.”

He actually laughed. A warm glow grew in her belly as he asked her about her recent reads and actually discussed them with her, giving pretty good reviews of his own and relating her observations to other books he’d read.

 _He’s so close to perfect,_ Sophie thought sadly. _If only I was a little more perfect for him._

He took a sip of wine and the glint in his eyes shifted subtly. "So, I get the sense you have some pretty well developed self preservation instincts."

She startled, mouth too full to answer at first. "What makes you say that?"

"Sweetheart," he said with a gentle smile, and she felt her stomach swoop. Nobody had ever called her that. She'd ways thought it would sound patronizing coming from a man, but with him, the way it'd slipped out, was almost unbearably intimate and caring. "You do a visual sweep of the restaurant more often than I do, and I'm a cop."

Her ribs felt tight, but she forced a smile to deflect. "You see right through me."

"Not really. I read people for a living. And it makes sense - you've had to, right? You probably don't get out much, either."

She felt frozen. It was true. Aside from the occasional movie theater with Kiera and her friends, or work conference, she tended to opt out of things. She got food and groceries delivered but that was because she worked odd hours and was usually too tired, and she didn't have a lot of spare money for outings. That was all it was. 

Definitely not the combination of a stalker shadowing her steps and agoraphobia hounding at her heels.

"I'm not trying to put you on edge. Just trying to understand." He shifted his chair closer to her, eyes concerned now. "Hey, I know that look. It's okay. You're safe."

 _I'm safe_ , she repeated in her head, and felt her panic ratchet down a notch. Usually when she tried that line, it didn't work. But when _he_ said it, with a voice full of authority, she actually sort of believed him. _I'm safe_.

When she looked up at him again she realized the concern on his face and that she might have looked a little spacey. Her mouth was dry, and this time she couldn't find a smile to disarm him.

"I'm sorry," and his voice was so kind and wanted to wrap herself in it like a blanket. "I didn't mean to freak you out. Was it because I called you sweetheart?"

"Not...really."

"The fact that I read you a little too well?"

"Probably."

He smiled apologetically. "Bad habit."

"I'm sorry. This is stupid."

"It isn't. Brains do weird things to protect us, that's all. Is your panic getting better the more we talk, or worse?" She appreciated that he used an inclusive plural, though she doubted he'd ever had to fight with his brain before.

"Better, I think."

"What if I held your hand? Would that be okay?"

Did he want to, or was he only trying to make her feel better? Maybe there wasn't a difference. She looked at his hand and nodded. "If you want."

"I do." His hand engulfed hers, and was so warm she didn't even realize hers were cold until he touched her. "Can we keep talking like this?"

"What is there to talk about?" She was still a little spaced.

He smiled, almost abashed. "How I was clumsily trying to invite you back to my apartment to talk in private. But also that you can say no, and I can take you home now." 

She almost laughed at how absurd it was, but he was holding her hand and had invited her back to his place which felt like a huge thing, a tacit agreement she was nowhere ready for. "I don't..."

He waited a few beats for her to finish her thought, and when she didn't he prompted her with a small teasing smile. "You can tell me no. No is an acceptable answer."

She thought of her small shabby apartment and how it would feel cold and sad and lonely and suffocating to be there right now. And then of his cozy apartment, clean and safe, and how it might be nice to spend a few hours beside him on the couch, in a place where Donovan would never know to even look for her.

Then, with a stab of fear, realized he probably did not mean for them to be on the couch. She cringed at how stupid what she was about to say sounded, but made herself anyway. "What would we do there?"

He understood immediately. She could tell by the reassuring squeeze of her hand. "Talk. Watch TV. I want to maybe get a clearer picture of the things that trigger your anxiety so I can do a better job at avoiding them. Might want to kiss you goodnight later. Well - not _might_ , but that'll be up to you."

A deep twinge went through her. She knew she was flushing deep red now, but there was no helping it. "Can we...can we table that talk for now?" She bit her lip, heart suddenly hammering. "It's...not a no. Just later?"

He smiled at her so genuinely that it made things ease up a bit in her head. He kissed the back of her fingers lightly. "Of course. It can wait."

"I'm sorry." 

"Hey, never apologize for having a boundary." His gaze was steady and unruffled, and her subconscious clung to his calm like she could take some of it for her own. "You need them. The word _no_ always applies."

"I...I have a hard time understanding why you go through all this trouble for me. It doesn't seem worth it."

"Don't apologize. It _isn't_ trouble. That's something I want to talk about too. Maybe it's hard for you to understand, and maybe there's something I want to say about how you don't think you're worth the smallest considerations, but you are. And you'll just have to take my word on that, okay? Maybe after we've spent more time together you'll start to understand that this is how I am. And maybe you'll not always like it - I've had people call me overbearing or suffocating before. But I like taking care of people. Are you okay with that?"

Thoughts and emotions swirled, and she was unable to pick through them. But she concentrated on his question and considered her answer. "My main issue is feeling like I... deserve it, I guess."

He squeezed her hand again. "I think otherwise. You don't have to perform a certain way to be worthwhile. You _do_ deserve people taking the time to make you feel comfortable, Sophie."

She huffed a laugh, taking a sip of water with a shaking hand. "It's a lot of work."

"Not to me."

He kissed her hand again, and then kept her hand against his mouth, just idle, and she was almost uncomfortable with it. But he seemed to be trying to show her he wanted her and wasn't doing this out of pity, and so she tried to start letting that possibility into her brain.

After a few moments, she almost felt reassured. He let go of her hand and they got back to dinner. He asked her a few questions about books, and smiled when she forgot to be shy and words poured out of her.

"So do you think you'll go back to the club?" He said it casually, looking down at his plate as he ate. Almost deliberately casual.

It stopped her in her tracks, heat flaming into her cheeks. "Do you _enjoy_ flustering me?"

He grinned, teasing, and kept eating like this was nothing. "Yes. Can you answer my question?"

She tried to match his level of nonchalance, but still blushed furiously. "No. I don't think I'll go back."

"Why not?" And this time, his eyes flashed to hers, and there she read a second's worth of intense interest before he went back to his food.

He did care about her answer.

A _lot._

"I just...it was a long shot, me going there in the first place. I don't really know all that is necessarily...for me." 

He looked at her quizzically a moment before answering. "That's fair. A lot of people give it a try and realize it's not for them. I just...didn't want what happened in my class to be the reason."

"No," she said with a ghost of a smile that he didn't catch. She relaxed a little. He was just trying to absolve his conscience, not probe her psyche. "The panic attack…that was more a symptom than the cause."

It was a nonsensical answer that, for some reason, made him stop and look at her. His eyes were arresting; green and highly intelligent, missing nothing, calculating, giving nothing away.

She cleared her throat and took a sip of water, and he released her abruptly from his gaze as if knowing that look made her uncomfortable. She smiled to clear the atmosphere but couldn't seem to think of something else to say. "Thank you for dinner. You’ve done your duty, and I promise I'm fine now."

He seemed taken aback, then smiled a little. "I didn't ask you out to check up on you out of some sense of professional courtesy. I asked you out because I like you, and I want to get to know you better."

It threw her off balance, made her breath catch. He was so matter of fact about it. Nobody had ever, as far as she could recall, openly and honestly expressed interest to her like that - romantic or otherwise.

He tilted his head at her, that bemused smile still there. "If that's what you thought... Sophie, why did you say yes?"

"To make you happy," she said automatically, cringing when she saw his reaction. Time for honesty. In a small voice she added, "But also...I wanted to see you again, too."

Belatedly, she realized she should smile in response. She had learned to smile when she couldn't think of anything to say. It made people think she was sweet but shy - which was true, but also was something she used to keep at arm's length. Protect herself. 

If people thought you were shy you were allowed to not talk, and if they thought you were kind they wouldn't get mad at you about it.

"You look panicked." His expression gentled, but he was watching her now with concerned curiosity.

"I'm not," she said automatically but wasn't sure that was true. "You're just...very honest."

"Blunt, you mean." And there was that warm, flirty smile that was so bright she couldn't look at his face anymore.

He didn't seem scared off by her weird reactions.

Why was that?

Her heart was hammering as he continued. "I am. I don't beat around the bush. I like that you're open, too. I appreciate asking questions and getting honest answers."

 _Must serve you well at work._ "I mean, I don't have anything to hide," she said, smiling faintly at the hand that was nervously clutching her water glass. She brushed absently at the beads of condensation running down the glass, drawing circles. Her blush was creeping to her ears now and she hated it. Hated how obviously he was getting to her. How easy she was to read.

His hand slid across the table and captured hers, thumb tracing circles against her skin. She'd forgotten to keep her hands in her lap. Her heart rate kicked up a notch.

"I think you do," he said, the wattage of that smile never dimming. "But that's okay with me. I like solving mysteries."

She risked a glance and his expression was pleased and secret now, a face that spoke words just for her.

"I don't have any mysteries. You already know all the interesting things about me."

"I really don't think so."

What the hell did that mean? 

He was making her out to be more than she was, and that meant she was going to disappoint him. "I suppose it won't matter if I try to dissuade you from that notion."

His eyes twinkled as he held her hand with that small, flirty, teasing smile, and something in her insides clenched and twisted. "Nope."

God, if this turned out to be all that this was, if tonight was the last night she ever saw him, she'd still remember this smile, always.

"Anyway," she said, trying desperately to get back the original topic - which itself was already shaky ground but at least more clear to her than whatever was happening now. "Going to the club was a mistake. I should've known that. Even if I was interested in that... _your_ sort of life, there was no way I could've done those sorts of things around other people."

He took the bone, as she hoped he would, even as she realized she was opening up the topic to own secret desires again. But they were in public, weren't they? That had to be some measure of protection from embarrassing her too much.

And he _had_ met her in his class. There was no escaping from that. He already had an inkling of what went on in her head.

"There's no requirement to be public about it," he said, and his voice had taken a dark and quiet octave that made her gulp.

When the check came, he swept it off the table so smoothly she almost didn’t notice it had even arrived.

He caught the look in her eye. “You’re not paying,” he told her with a half-cocked smile.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not how this works.” His charismatic cheekiness helped soften what Sophie would have otherwise considered _just_ this side of misogyny. “I asked _you_ out.” There was a gleam in his eye that looked a little dangerous. He lowered his voice. “And it’s not I operate.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Just as long as you don’t think I’m only here for a free dinner.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think that about you,” he replied, voice still low and full of dark promise.

They walked hand in hand to the car. He let go of her hand to reverse the truck and put it in drive, and then once they were on the road, held it open, palm up, on the seat between them. An offering she accepted, shyly. 

He walked her to her door, catching her wrist just before she got within peephole range, and tugged her gently into his space.

He brushed her hair back from her face, fondly, and she was frozen, not sure what to do, her brain short circuiting with how good his touch felt and how impossible it also was.

This did not happen to her. She was every mousey, bookish stereotype from high school, only without the magic makeover at the end of the movie that was supposed to get her a happily ever after. She had become all grown up without anyone ever taking notice.

"Will you let me kiss you goodnight?" His voice was husky, the words almost too quiet to hear over the pounding of her heartbeat.

Stunned into silence, her gaze dropped to his mouth and held there, as if hypnotized. He’d already kissed her once. This was normal. This was okay. 

_Don't panic_ , she told herself. But she had no idea what to do. She couldn't remember how to do this.

Taking that small motion as assent, his head dipped low, bringing her slowly to him, his fingers in her hair rubbing gently at her scalp as if to calm her. As if he knew she was on the verge of panic.

The kiss was gentle, chaste, his lips tasting of the mint he'd unwrapped in the truck. It only lasted a moment - too quick, she barely had time to save the memory to analyze later - and he pulled back, smiling. His hand still cupped the back of her skull, fingers still stroking her scalp, encouragingly. "When can I see you again?"

It took her a moment to remember she could speak. "You don't want to date me."

“Oh? Why not?” He looked amused.

“It's just...a statement of fact.” She felt drunk, woozy, though she’d only had water. The air had an unrealistic quality to it. This man – this chiseled cheek boned man with the 3 o’clock shadow and a gold badge in his wallet was interested in her?

The universe was playing a cruel trick on her. Dangling something in front of her that wasn't meant to be.

"I beg to differ." His head dipped low again, but instead of kissing her he spoke low in her ear. "Why don't you let me decide what I want?”

But then he pulled away, hand dropping from her, and her heart sank, realizing she'd succeeded in pushing him away.

"I do, as a matter of fact, want to date you. But if that's not what you want - if you were just being polite tonight by letting me take you out - tell me. I take “no” very seriously. If that's what you mean, then this can be goodbye."

He _was_ serious, she realized. And she suddenly felt awful that she must have been so distant this whole night that he thought she was merely suffering his presence because she was too afraid to refuse him.

_"Is_ it goodbye, Sophie?"

Here he was, giving her an out, like she's felt coerced this whole time. 

"I'm sorry.” She bit her lip when his expression closed up, anticipating rejection. "I'm bad at this. That's why I said...what I said." She sighed, feeling her eyes get hot, and in a panic she looked away. "I kind of feel like I'm too..." _Messed up_ , she wanted to say, but couldn't. _Damaged._ _Boring. Vanilla._ "Not enough for you. But I _do_ want to see you again." So much.

He glanced back at her, guarded.

"I'm just...awkward. And not good at talking about this. And afraid I'm going to mess it up."

He held her gaze with steady, earnest eyes. "You’re not awkward. You’re trying to do something that’s difficult for you, which I appreciate.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, sending tingles across her scalp. "You might mess up sometimes. So could I. But it's okay. Doesn't have to stop us from trying."

_It's always stopped me before._

She smiled for real this time, feeling a delicate flitter of hope in her chest. A tenuous freedom from her fears. "Fair enough. I'll try."

He kissed her once more, slow and long, until she forgot to breathe. When they parted she was off balance. "Goodnight," he said, and his smile was full of promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Realized I forgot to add a scene here. Just more talking, but if you're re-reading and you notice some new stuff, that's why!)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not want to be written! And it's not exactly edited, so apologies. I've been swamped with freelance deadlines. However, my schedule frees up soon, and then I'll definitely be back to this. :)

They started seeing each other about twice a week. He'd text a day or two out and she'd let him know if she was free. Most of the time, she was. 

They went to dinner and to movies. Once with Kiera and her boyfriend as a double date; another time with his interior decorator friend Casey and her girlfriend, Veronica. She was pretty sure he suggested those double dates on purpose. Introduce himself to her friends, and let her see that he had other people in his life too who thought he was a worthwhile guy to hang around with.

She’d surprised herself by looking forward to going out, now. 

He'd pick her up and drop her off back home again with a chaste goodnight kiss, and she'd feel warm and floaty for hours afterwards, wake up in the morning every single time with a sweet message from him. Sometimes just a "can't wait to see you again." Or a "hope you slept well, sweetheart.”

She felt high all the time now, more or less. Addicted to him. To his words, his invites.

Seeing him became the bright spots of her week. She looked forward to seeing his name pop up on her phone - which it did often, as he checked in to ask about her day or tell her about his.

"This meeting is never going to end. Kill me and put me out of my misery."

She smiled and hid her phone in her lap beneath the conference table. "Ha! Same here. What's yours about?"

"Updating some intake paperwork procedures. Yours?"

"Some patron keeps filling out the crossword puzzles in the new york times and leaving them in the men's room. Trying to figure out the best way to stop that.”

"God I wish that were me. Yours is way more interesting. Do you happen to need the services of a private detective? I come highly recommended. The case of the crossword puzzle commode."

She had to stifle a giggle behind a cough. "I mean usually these things are about what font to use on signs or how much our budget has been slashed for next fiscal year, so I don't get your hopes up that every case would be so interesting."

Her phone vibrated almost instantly. "Moonlighting as your personal private detective would be so worth it."

She looked up, trying to pay attention to her boss. She didn't know how to respond to that. Was that flirting? 

Other than a kiss goodnight and an occasional hand hold or arm around the shoulders, they hadn't hardly touched in a month. 

She thought about that first night a lot. That night, alone in her empty bed, she brought up the memory again of how he’d kissed her, shirtless, breathless, as if he couldn’t help himself and had to have her right then, in that moment, or he’d burst into flames.

It was a lovely memory to fall asleep to.

But it hadn’t happened again. The details were getting blurry now and she longed to relive the scene. So she’d been wrestling with herself: if that opportunity arose again, what would she do? Would she let it stop again, or...

She’d said no for a long time. So long. What was she still waiting for? What was she so afraid of, still? Getting pregnant, getting an STD, those were the things her high school had tried to frighten her with and by now, they seemed silly. 

But the other fears - the deeper ones. Those were harder to name. Betrayal? Embarrassment? Intimacy? Getting so very close to someone and then risking that they’d later reject you? There was probably a name for that last one, and it was the worst of them. 

Abstinence was getting _old,_ frankly, and she definitely didn’t count on rounding thirty and still never…

Well. Her thoughts always short-circuited somewhere around this point, but every time it happened she whispered to herself: _next time, maybe._

And what, for that matter, was _he_ waiting for? Sophie could appreciate that he was dialing it back, maybe, after that first night. Letting them get to know each other. But there was that voice whispering in her ear that he _didn’t_ want her that way, he was only desperate that night and she was available, he was losing interest with her prudish ways. 

Stop it, she told herself sternly. Nobody who texts you every day and has dinner with you twice a week only sees you as a friend. 

But then, if not that - why was he holding her at arm’s length? She must seem fragile, after that first meeting. Maybe he’s treading lightly. 

That much she could be grateful for. As much as she was impatient to relive that first night, she still got nervous flutters in her stomach when he’d reach across the table for her hand or touch the small of her back. 

Anything more than that was liable to give her a conniption. 

Her bed felt impossibly empty. She tried to picture what it would feel like to sleep beside a man - warm and imposing, probably, but safe. Cozy. His arm draped across her, sleepily whispering sweet words in her ear as she fell asleep.

She fell asleep feeling cold and empty and sad. 

And woke with a message from Jake waiting for her.

“Dinner tonight - my place?”

It was the first time he’d invited her back to his apartment since the first night. There was an air of dangerous possibility there.

She was off tonight. Before her eyes even blinked away the sleep she’d texted back. “Sure.”

  
  


***

Kiera caught her on her way out the door. “You’re all dressed up! Where to tonight?”

Sophie made a face. “I’m not _dressed up._ I just...need to do laundry.”

Her redhaired roommate crossed her arms over her chest, stepped in front of the dorm and grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure. So really, where are you going?”

They’d been doing this lately - mostly out of Sophie’s security-conscious habits, but also because of the unspoken, unseen elephant in the room that was the fact that they hadn’t seen or heard from Donovan for a while. “Kiera, come on. He’s sitting in the parking lot, waiting for me.”

“You’re going to his place, aren’t you?”

“So what if I am?” There was an unintended edge to her tone, and Sophie regretted it instantly. This was _Kiera_. The last person who would ever judge her. So who was she really upset at? The nagging inner voice that told her she was doing something wrong? 

The smile dropped from Kiera’s face. “It’s fine, Soph. Honestly. You’re a grown up; you’re allowed to do whatever you want. I’m just being silly is all. 

Sophie softened. “I know. Just...hard to get used to the idea that my parents won’t find out and ground me, somehow.”

The smile came back. “Sweetie, you’re almost thirty. You’re allowed to have a personal life. Even - _gasp - “_

“Don’t say it!”

“A sex life.” Sophie’s shy prudishness was a bit of a sore spot. “And nobody’s calling anybody’s parents.” 

Sophie shoved her playfully aside and Kiera went without complaint. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she called after her. 

Sophie snorted under her breath as she spotted Jake down below and waved, smiling. “That’s a short list.”

She slid into his passenger seat with practised ease now, though her heart was thumping. His grin was infectious, and she felt bubbly inside her skin -- nervous but not in the bad way. He leaned across the empty space and kissed her, warm and soft. “Hey, sweetheart” he said, in his low honey-sweet voice. 

“Hey. Have a good day?” 

“Went by way too slow. Kept wanting to fast-forward to this part.” 

The glow inside her chest was like a sun. The air between them was so easy and natural, she almost forgot her nerves as he pulled into his complex and led her to his door. 

They ate pasta he’d made - which was actually amazing - and he told her about his day. As they finished, he settled on the couch and gestured for her to join him.

"Do you want a drink?" he offered, as he poured himself some red wine.

“Oh, um. Sure.” 

“Water, or something harder?” He watched her reaction a beat longer than was necessary.

She hesitated. The Jack and coke hadn't made her sick, and actually did help her relax a bit. He probably gave her barely any alcohol last time. _At least pretend to be a grown up for once_ , she thought at herself. “Whatever you think I’d like.”

She watched him make it - she couldn't help it - and he brought it to her. She took it and looked at him.

He took a drink, too, then leaned back against the leather and gazed at her with a keen eye on her that she couldn't meet head on. "So. 

"Okay," she said, though her heart immediately started hammering. She pretended that sipping her drink was why she remained perched on the edge of the couch. 

"You don't have to pretend you're comfortable with this subject. I can tell you're not. I’ll tread lightly, but I feel like we need to."

"I agree," she said quietly. Then, "Don't read my nervousness for unwillingness.

She saw his small, surprised smile out of the corner of her eye. "Okay, I won't. You obviously have - or, _had,_ past tense - some interest in BDSM. Had you taken a class before?'

"No."

"Had any experience then? With a... boyfriend, maybe?"

It was so ridiculous she huffed a surprised laugh. "No."

"Okay,” he answered, infinitely patient. “Then where did it come from?"

His tone was calm and polite, it was definitely a command.

She screwed her eyes up tight, already feeling the red hot embarrassment in her cheeks. "Where else? I read about it."

"Of course," he said with a little laugh, and just as she was flinching from how dumb she felt, his hand was on her back, rubbing light, encouraging circles. A reward.

"It wasn't the book you're thinking of," she said quickly, unable to look at him, almost unable to talk at all.

"I wouldn't care if it was." He leaned forward, gently taking the glass from her hand to put it on the coffee table, and then wrapped his arms around her waist. "I would feel better if I could touch you for this part. Would it help you?"

When she didn't respond right away, trying to imagine, he eased her back against him, her head tucked under his chin. "If you don't answer me, I'm going to assume you want to say yes but can't for some reason. You seem to be able to tell me no pretty well. Is that fair?'

She nodded, feeling her hair drag along the stubble of his chin and the gravel of his voice reverberate through her. She felt a little calmer with the reassurance of his touch, and not having to see his eyes.

"What about the books intrigued you?"

She had to really dig deep. "I don't... Really know. Didn’t really spend time to put my finger on it."

“It's okay. Was it more about the power exchange for you?”

“I think. Yes.”

"Good." His voice was warm, full of praise. “Okay. I feel how hot your face is. I'll leave you alone for now. I'll just talk a bit, okay? If you want to get up or move away, tell me, but otherwise I want you right here, okay?"

She nodded, feeling oddly secure in the fact that she wasn’t allowed to just...escape. Then his hand started lightly stroking her hair and she thought she may actually melt. If she wasn’t screwed up so tight from the nerves. 

"Here's the thing. I don't have to do all that other stuff - ropes and punishment and all the stereotypical trappings people think of. Do I enjoy that stuff with someone else who also likes it? Yes. But it’s not a compulsive need. Where I need to be honest is...I don't think a relationship that didn't have some sort of power exchange on like, a regular basis, would really work for me.” 

Her heart was going so fast now. If he hadn’t told her not to move away, she probably would have. 

“Not all the time - I don't need to control every aspect of a person's life - but in little things. Like this. Letting me keep you next to me. Letting me drive you and feed you and all that. Are you with me?”

She nodded, mute.

“I like you, Sophie. I think you’re interested in the same things I am. But because of the way I am and the way you are, I don’t want to unintentionally pressure you into continuing something that you aren’t one hundred percent on board with. So I’m going to need to be really honest and I need you to do the same with me. Okay?”

Her breathing went a little shallow. She had to make a conscious effort to fill her lungs slowly and fully. He seemed to notice, too -- his hand started stroking her hair. But there was also something else outside of her fear - a slow, exquisite coiling inside of her, hanging on his every word. And whispering _yes._

She nodded.

“Tell me.”

“I’m listening. I’ll be honest with you.”

“I'd really, really like to explore what makes BDSM attractive to you. And I know it might seem like I'm bringing up sex kind of early here, but I feel like I need to be up front that even vanilla sex for me means I'm going to be a little dominant because that's who I am."

For a few moments she couldn't really breathe, and then she was both glad and frustrated he had told her not to move away without asking first because otherwise she might have bolted.

He gave her a few minutes to absorb this, then squeezed the arm around her as if he knew how’d she would respond. "Are you freaking out?"

"No," she said honestly. "Just thinking."

"That's good."

His words both frightened and intrigued her. It was like an answer to some deep, dark question she had never delved deep enough to fathom. A call and response in her body. 

She tried to picture what she wanted, and whether it matched the picture he had drawn for her of what being with him was like. 

It felt like a long time after that she whispered, "I'm open to that. What you described. As long as I don’t have to give up my free will."

A hum went through him as he considered. "Anything we’d do, Soph, we’d discuss and agree on first. I might want you to sleep here a few nights of the weeks let me drive you to work. Or do what we're doing now, where I'm pushing you a bit. I might push you right to the edge of those boundaries. A lot depends on you, too, and what your comfort level is...hey, it's okay. Take a deep breath. Slow."

Her breath had gotten shaky. "I'm okay. I promise. My body just...does this.”

"I understand. You’re doing good.”

“For example”, he said. “I might do things like this. Telling you to stay here next to me while we talk about stuff that embarrasses you. Not pushing you over the edge of a boundary, but maybe you're a little uncomfortable right now. Because I think it’s important.

“This is okay,” she said quietly, after considering.

His voice was warm as he hugged her. “I like to be in control and that can mean I'm a little bossy sometimes. But I try to be nice about it.”

She huffed a laugh. “Thanks.”

“I'd like to be able to introduce to things I think you might like, later on,” he said, and his voice had taken on a darker, more gravelly tone. “But we'd talk about it first, before any boundaries get changed. Still with me?”

She nodded.

“I like touching you," he said, his tone changing suddenly and throwing her off. “You always respond like cat.”

“Excuse me?”

He laughed. "You kind of arch into my hand. I like it." Then he switched topics. "The things you've read have probably been pretty hardcore, right? We can go there, if you want to - but I don't have to. If you're interested, later, we can discuss it.”

“What about others? At the...the club?”

“I don't have any entanglements there that I can't walk away from. I like monogamy, Soph. If we’re exclusive, then I won’t be with any one else. I'd probably still teach some classes here and there if the scheduling works, but you’d be my priority.”

“That's okay,” Sophie said quickly, blushing. “And...thanks.”

He pulled her to him then and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling her anxiety ebb as his steady heartbeat lulled hers into calm. 

“Doing okay?” Jake asked, and Sophie realized it’d been a long time since she made any sound. 

“I’m...surprisingly good,” she murmured into his shirt, and she felt the rumble of his chuckle against her cheek. “Honestly this has made me feel better.”

“So you’re good with my terms so far?” There was a lilt of teasing in his voice. 

She pulled back to smile at him. “So far.” 

“Any questions? Reservations? 

She laid her head back on his chest quickly. Is this when she should tell him? He was honest with _her._ “Is...this why you waited a month to tell me?”

“Sort of? I mean, not on purpose. I wanted to see if there was anything there first. Make sure you were comfortable with me.”

“I’m getting there.”

She could feel the smile in his voice when he said “Good.” 

“So...look.” He didn’t move her from her position, half-splayed against his front, her face buried in his chest. “I know you have some hang ups with the physical. If you’re still good, I want to talk about that, too.”

She took a deep, steadying breath. “I...can do that.. She risked a peek up at him and then hid back in his shirt again. His hand stroked reassuringly up and down her back, but he gave her room to find the words on her own time. 

“It’s not...trauma, or anything like that. I don’t know where it comes from. My nerves just - well. I was diagnosed with social anxiety when I was a kid. Just born with that, I guess. I coped more or less until college, and that’s when I started having panic attacks.”

“From the stress? Or…?”

“I guess that was it. It was just...a lot of stress at once, and my brain decided to cope by dumping fight or flight responses into my every day. So I’d be sitting in class feeling my heart race, feeling like I was going to faint, feeling like...like I was about to die. And all I could think was to just _get out._ So I did. I started cutting classes and making excuses about being sick, and it got to be almost to where I couldn’t drive or leave the house without feeling like I was dying.”

He made a sympathetic noise, and she realized she’d tightened her fists into his shirt. She relaxed them consciously and went on. “Anyway long story short, I got counseling and got my life back together. It crops back up sometimes and I can usually deal, though, now that I know I’m not really dying and I just need to wait for my brain to chill.”

“That’s really good,” Jake murmured, and she could feel the genuine praise in it. 

“So...all of this. It’s just part of me that I deal with. I try not to let it become...like, all of me. It wins sometimes but not so much the past few years. I don’t want to keep living my life hemmed in by arbitrary limitations my brain puts on me to try to keep me safe. And yet I…” she stopped, wondering aloud. “I do tend to keep to myself. I avoid places with lots of people or that feel dangerous. I do avoid discomfort but I can at least life my regular life without panic attacks now. For the most part.”

“And that night at the club?”

“It was the crowd. Claustrophobia. Not you, specifically. The dark room made it seem smaller and the fact that I was there talking about...submission, and giving up control, and…”

“Ah, I see.” He snuggled her closer to him, tucking her legs up so his arms encircled her entirely. “That was you being brave that night, then.”

“Trying and failing.”

“Nope. You came to class; you didn’t fail.”

She heaved a sigh and didn’t argue. At least not out loud. “So, yes…the topic makes me nervous. But it doesn’t specifically trigger my anxiety.”

“What are your triggers?” The question was gentle but firm. She mustered up her courage.

“Um. Not being able to escape from a situation quickly. Usually that manifests as claustrophobia but I can deal with things that I know will be over quickly. Like elevators are fine but planes aren’t. Um...embarrassment. Like, in public. I used to not even be able to eat in public where people could see me. And, um, needles make me faint, but other than that…”

He was quiet. Too quiet. She’d just spilled her crazy all over him and she couldn’t even bring herself to look up and read his face. Her whole body went tense. “I’m sorry. I know that’s weird.”

“Do not apologize.” His voice held a firm note of command, and his hand resumed its path up and down her arm. “I’m sorry. I’m just processing. So what it is about BDSM specifically that makes you nervous?”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. This was something she’d never really fully understood about herself. Was it that she was inexperienced? Sex and nudity just...made her clam up. She didn’t know why. It was shameful and embarrassing to admit she had any interests like that at all.

“I’m kind of a prude,” she whispered, burning with embarrassment. “And I don’t have much experience. With, like...any of it.” 

His hand stilled, and she winced. But then he pulled her up to face him and his expression was so warm and soft and open. “Baby,” he said, and kissed her, long and searching, and even though her face still blazed with warmth she let herself be carried off with that kiss. “Thank you for telling me everything. I understand so much better now. And it’s fine. Nothing you told me is the worst thing in the world or even as weird as you think it is. I don’t care how experienced you are and it’s normal to be nervous. Fuck, I was nervous picking you up today.”

She managed a smile. “Liar.”

“Nope.” He smiled back and settled her next to him again. She felt oddly lighter, even with all her neuroses floating in the air between them now, exposed. 

They settled onto the leather couch together idly flicking through movies on Netflix until he found one that Sophie agreed to. 

As the credits started, Jake pulled Sophie down on the couch with him, gently, so that they lay side by side, her head cradled in the crook of his elbow. 

“Okay?” he murmured, rustling her hair with his breath. 

She nodded, lips pressing tight together. He draped the soft blanket over them both, and Sophie completely missed the opening of the movie, her body turned inward, obsessed with the feel of him pressed against her. 

His body was long and powerful in contrast to hers; but they fit together so perfectly. After a few uncomfortable minutes where she didn’t let herself breathe normally, she actually...relaxed.

“I could fall asleep like this,” she murmured back, and was surprised when he pulled her even tighter back against him. 

“I couldn’t,” was his reply, which puzzled her.

His hand slid securely around her midriff, and he settled his chin close to her ear. “Would you?” he murmured eventually. “Sleep here?”

That made her eyes go wide. “Tonight?”

“Anytime that you could. If I wanted you to?”

Her mouth wanted to protest, but -- why? Some decade-old rule about having a curfew? That didn’t apply anymore. She was free to sleep where - and with whomever - she wanted. 

It might even be...nice.

“Yes,” she said. “I would.”

“Good.” 

Jake slid his hand up to cup her breast. “I can feel your heart speed up when I touch you,” he murmured, pleased. To her shock, she felt the sharp jutting edge of him rise against her backside, and all of a sudden she wasn’t sleepy anymore. 

She could barely breathe. “I...don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to _do_ anything.” His hand started moving, stroking, bringing forth a tingling , tight pleasure straight to her core that she’d never known. “There are so many things I want to do to you, Soph.”

She was breathing hard, now. “I’m...very curious as to what those are.”

“You’ll find out. But not tonight.” He kissed her cheek, and his hand went up under her shirt, finding its way back to her with one less item of clothing between him and her bare skin. His fingers teased at the edge of the cup of her bra. 

“Why not?”

“We need to discuss a couple more things first.”

“Like what?” She’d completely given up on following the plot of the movie. 

“Your boundaries. And mine - though I expect I’ll run up against yours long before we get to any of my own.” His fingers were still teasing her, torturing, and her sole focus was torn between his touch and his voice. 

“Someone has touched you like this before, haven’t they?”

She almost whimpered. “Mm-hmm.”

His hand left her breast and slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, “Here?” 

She inhaled sharply, and her body went rigid, her every nerve following the path of his hand to cover her over her underwear. His legs nudged hers apart, just a bit, and on the deep couch there was plenty of space for more. “Not...really.” 

He made a strangled, pleased sound in his throat. “Has anyone ever been inside you, baby?” 

And then his finger slipped into the edge of her underwear and _into_ her, only slightly, but she did whimper this time, her hips moving reflexively. 

He kissed beneath her earlobe, his fingertip only just grazing the damp cleft of her “You’re so sweet,” he murmured. “Such a good girl.” 

The words ratchet up the tightened coil inside her, and she knew he could _feel_ how her body tightened in response to his words. He didn’t say anything, only teased her lightly with a fingertip, up and down a few times, until his hand slipped free from beneath her clothes. He kissed the curve of her throat and held her securely to him, even as she ached for him to touch her again. 

“Baby,” he murmured. He was a little breathless in her ear, but otherwise sounded remarkably more composed than she felt right now. She could feel now how incredibly hard he was against her and realized there was nothing that could stop them from shedding their clothes and doing this tonight, _here._ Right now. “The next time we see each other, I want _you_ to tell me when you want to see me. I want you to clear your schedule for a night and the day after and bring a change of clothes. I want you to sleep in my bed.” He turned her chin and kissed her mouth, and driven by the sudden pulsing between her legs, she kissed back with more force than she was used to. “I want to be sure that’s what you want, too. And that it’s not me just being convincing and charming your pants off.”

She smiled. She had to be panting now; that’s the only word for it. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to care how wanton she must look. 

Sophie slid her hand to his rough cheek. Even in her haze, his motivation made sense. She, being a natural people-pleaser, could easily just be going along with what he wanted, even if she wasn’t as enthusiastic as he was. “I understand. I do...want this.”

He grabbed her waist and turned her so that her body faced his, then pulled her top leg over his hip. The hard, jutting edge of him hit her exactly where her body ached for pressure, and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed. 

“Good. Because then, I plan to take you to bed, and to give you a taste of what you went looking for the night we met.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. The election broke my brain and I've only barely recovered. 
> 
> Also it's more talking, because I LIKE this part. But I promise next chapter is the good stuff. :)

"Kiera, be serious."

"I am!" Her roommate unfolded her legs and went into the kitchen, tearing open the crinkly package of ramen and dropping it into the pot.

"Shit!" She popped her index finger in her mouth, a splash of boiling water having flown up and hit her.

Sophie followed her in, concerned. "Is it bad?"

"Nope." She popped the finger out again to show her. "And it's not bad that you want to sleep with Jake, either."

Sophie couldn't help but cringe. Kiera was so.. _.forthright. _

"Don't give me that look. Honey, I love your parents but they gave you some serious complexes about relationships. It’s okay."

"I know it is." _ Logically _ , at least. She knotted her fingers and slumped into a kitchen chair. "I just..."

"What are you afraid of? Really? That he'd hurt you? I know you haven't known him long, but I  _ have _ . And I've heard things. He’s a good guy.”

“I know. He's been a perfect gentleman. But..."  _ Men will do and say anything to get what they want.  _ Her mother’s voice rang in her memory, making her shudder. "Honestly? Want to know what I’m really afraid of?" She sighed, miserably. “That this is all a big trick to get me to sleep with him, and once we do, he’ll ghost me.”

There. She said it.

Kiera stopped rummaging in the kitchen and stared at her. "You really like him, huh? This isn't just a one off for you."

Sophie shrugged miserably. They hadn't seen each other in a few days. He still texted her tidbits of his day here and there, but she knew he was waiting. 

Waiting for her to make the decision if this was going to be more.

Kiera’s concern turned to sympathy. "Honey, I can't tell you that won't happen, because it does. Men are frequently garbage. But I can tell you I’ve never heard of one of Jake’s relationships ending badly. And the girls  _ talk _ , believe me, I would have heard.” She paused to smash up her ramen with a wooden spoon, then turned back to Sophie. “But I will tell you that living in fear of the worst possible outcomes shouldn't stop you from enjoying the before parts. If you sleep together and he doesn’t call you back,  _ so what _ ? You enjoy yourself, you get your first major heartbreak out of the way, you go back to living. I know it seems insurmountable, but once you’ve done it, it gets easier.”

Sophie buried her head in her arms, voice muffled by her sleeves. “Somehow this isn’t helping.” 

Kiera made a sympathetic click with her tongue and came to sit beside her at the table. Her voice gentled. “Why can't your ‘what ifs’ be good ones? What if he makes you feel safe and comfortable? What if nothing goes badly and you were worried about nothing? What if it's amazing?"

“Why do you remember the stuff my therapist said better than I do?” Kiera was being deliberately kind, and deliberately  _ not _ crass, which is how Sophie knew she was being sincere.

Kiera rubbed her shoulders, comforting. “I won't pry, because I know it makes you clam up. But if there are things you don't want to do yet, tell him. You can go at your own pace. That’s kind of how this how thing works. There’s a lot of talking, and you both agree what’s what before anything goes down.”

“I’m just not really a risk taker.”

Kiera laughed. “That’s an understatement. Look, I’m not gonna pressure you. But you seem to say no to a lot of things you’d actually like to do because you’re afraid something bad might happen. If you actually do want this - I’m just trying to tell you that I think this the safe kind of risk.” 

Sophie chewed on her bottom lip a moment, then nodded and picked up her phone.

  
  


\---

  
  
  


Jake was in a particular sort of agony. 

Texting was her preferred method of communication. He was slow at it - his fingers too big to hit the right key the first time and it was mostly an exercise in frustration. But she had a thing about talking on the phone, so texting it was. 

He’d come to associate that little  _ ding  _ with her name, and was almost ashamed at how quickly he’d been snatching his phone up lately every time he got a message. It had never been her. 

He’d pushed her a little the last time they were together. Maybe too far. She was skittish, and now he knew why. 

A virgin. A fucking  _ virgin.  _ He inhaled through his teeth, remembering. Not just new to his way of doing things, but to  _ everything.  _

He’d left the ball in her court. It was the right thing to do. 

And he was honestly afraid she’d decided not to play with him after all.

But then his phone vibrated on his desk, and he actually jumped to get it. The letters of her name were almost magical, an incantation that’d he manifested into reality. 

"I want to see you tonight. If you’re free.”

Jake sucked in a breath, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention. She was off today, but he'd had to work. The cubicle farm of his office was quiet at the moment. Everyone was bent over their notes and pecking away at ancient desktops. “I can wrap things up here around six. I’d love to see you. If you're sure.”

“I am. Just...nervous.” 

Something odd twisted in his chest. He'd assumed she's been in at least one relationship, just maybe not for a while. Not that she was a  _ virgin. _

That probably should have made him pause. He hadn’t been with someone with so little experience since high school. He'd never had to figure out how to make that work - how to scale back his typical style to such an extreme. But...

Ever since, he’d been picturing how he'd ease her into it. Calming her nerves while undressing her. Reassuring her. How he’d draw out from her what she needed, finding just the right way to…

Someone cleared his throat nearby, interrupting Jake’s sordid thoughts. 

She hadn't said anything more. She was probably over thinking things at this very moment. His finger hovered over the keypad, and for once he struggled with what to tell her. Anything he wanted to say sounded superficial. It didn't matter how much she may trust him. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Soph.”

He wished he could be with her, tell her in person what she wanted to say. He imagined her at home, laying in bed while talking to him. He's never seen her room before but could guess: a twin bed pushed into a corner, room overriding with stacks of books - some of them with saucy covers of half dressed Highlanders. She'd be tucked under a quilt - he'd seen how she had admired the craftsmanship of the quilt his grandma had made him as a graduation gift - and thinking about needing her in bed with  _ him _ instead.

“I’m going to email you something. They call it a contract, but it’s not legally binding, just an agreement between us .I just want to know your boundaries, what you’re looking to get out of of this. Can you send it back to me before I see you?”

“Yes.” Her answer was almost immediate. 

“Good girl.” He’d typed and sent it without a second thought. He quickly pulled up a file on his phone - a really basic introductory contract that he used for one-off scenes - and made a few edits before sending it her way. “I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

Her reply was a succinct smile.

\---

Sophie was afraid she might actually throw up. The whole drive over, her entire body shook. 

But it was a  _ good  _ kind of nerves, this time. At least, she thought so. Something inside her was clenched tight all day, nervous and anticipated but  _ excited,  _ too. 

She’d actually been able to fill out the contact pretty quickly, her nervous hands needing something to do while waiting for evening to come. It wasn’t as long as she’d expected, first of all. She’d been thinking about this a long time, and quickly marked out the things she wasn’t interested in. He defined a few terms in his email. There were hard no’s for things she never wanted to do; soft no’s for maybe later, not right now, or things she might be convinced to change her mind about. Yes with reservations - he’d added that option just for her - and unequivocal “yes”. There was a place to list triggers or areas of her body she didn’t want touched.

Looking at the list after she was finished, she was suddenly dismayed. She had marked a lot of “no.” Nothing gross. No blood. No humiliation. Nothing in public. No use of pain implements. 

He was going to take one look at her and say, “Sorry, sweetheart. Turns out we’re looking for different things.” 

Heart in her throat, she raised her hand to knock at his door, but it swung open on its own. And at Jake’s warm, tender smile, her body automatically eased its trembling.

“Hey,” she said, smiling, flooded with relief.

“Hey.” He grinned, and took her hand to pull her into a kiss that literally made her toes curl. 

He led her to the couch and sat down, holding her in his lap. It was a little unfamiliar, uncomfortable, at first. Her breath was hard to catch, even though she was sitting still. Her mind buzzed, unable to stay on any subject that wasn’t the huge reality of him. 

And then he spoke, and her brain keyed into his voice like it was the only thing that mattered.

“I read your form.”

She tensed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that --”

“It’s about what I expected, to be honest.”

She twisted to look at him, brow furrowed. “It is?”

His smile was doing wonders for her nerves. “It is. But I still want to discuss some things face to face. I’m going to ask you some questions that might embarrass you. You can just say yes or no, if you want. You might not know how you feel, and that’s fine. We can always stop if need be. And you’re not going to offend me by your answers, no matter what you might think.“

“Okay.” She nodded once, her hands in tight fists, steadying herself. “Go ahead.”

“Easy, baby. Just going to talk for now, okay?” He noticed, stroking the back of one hand gently until she relaxed it. “I want to blindfold you. Do you have any problems with that?”

She inhaled sharply. “Not...specifically.”

His voice continued in a gentle, steady cadence, like he was talking about the boring intricacies of court. “It can usually go one of two ways with people. It takes some power and agency away. Some people like not knowing what’s coming next. The surprise, the anticipation is exciting. For you, I think it would help ground you in your body and help you shut off your brain a little. Not worry so much about the external, what's going on around you.”   


As he said it, she could picture it. And it made something twist deep inside. “We can try that.”

“So, safewords. I know it was on the form - we can use “red” unless you want something different. And for now if you say no, or wait, anything like that, I'll still pause and check in. But it can be handy to have something that you know will stop everything, no questions asked. Not to mention some people have hangups about the word no, or want to be able to roleplay nonconsensual stuff where I ignore their no. For you though, anything will work to put on the brakes unless we've specifically discussed it first. I also can safeword _ for _ you if I think you need it. Or even if I might need it.”

“Why would you…?”

“If I start to doubt your consent, maybe. If I think you want to say no but won’t. It hasn't happened that someone has triggered any of my hard limits, but it's possible.” He laughed a little. “Probably not with you, though.”

“Probably not.”

“If I check in, I want a verbal response. If you don't think you can speak for whatever reason, you can tap three times instead.”

“What if…” she licked her lips, her mouth dry.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

She made herself say it, the deep fear in her heart, but it only came out as a whisper. “What if I mess up?”

A rumble went through his chest and he stroked up and down her back. “You can’t. You will always be safe with me. If something  _ gets _ messed up, it's on me, not you. That's the point of power exchange. I take responsibility. You are absolved of any. Got that? So no cause to be embarrassed.”

She hid a smile into his shirt, her heart thumping in a different way now. “Okay.”

“If I tell you to do something, I want it done. If you fight me or resist, I'll make you, unless you safeword. If you have a question or aren't clear on what I want, you can ask. But I'm not going to ask permission in scenes; I’m just going to do what I want in the moment. That's why we talk about it ahead of time, so there isn't negotiating during the scene.”

“I understand.”

“Anything you absolutely sure you don’t want to do, other than what you mentioned on the form?”

She tried to steady her breathing before she spoke. He stroked her back, encouragingly, while she got her courage up. “I don't want to be... Like, treated like an animal. I don't want to wear a collar or sit at your feet. I hope... I'm not being offensive.”

Tucked under his chin like she was, she couldn’t see his face - which was both easier and harder. She resisted the urge to pull away and check his expression, and instead tried to concentrate on the rhythmic movement of his hand along her spine. “No, sweetheart. I'm glad you're able to be honest about what you don't want. What if I put my hand around your throat, gently? Or say "good girl"?”

She swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. Those two words in his voice made her… 

“That's okay,” she said.” I… think I might like that.”

He squeezed her to him tight, then eased. “Good to know. Anything else?”

“Nothing to do with food.”

That made him curious, but he’d let it be for now. “No problem.”

“I’m not sure I can do, like...real pain. Right now.”

“That’s fine. I won’t hurt you. What about, like, a teasing sort of pain?” His fingers dug into her back a little more, scratching her skin over the fabric of her cardigan.

She actually arched her back into the sensation, unconsciously. “I’m...open.”

He pulled her tighter to him, his fingers stroking through her hair until she relaxed a little more. “Is that all, baby?”

She nodded, then remembered he wanted her to say it. “Think so.”

“So, last thing. Standard disclaimers: I always use condoms. I get tested once a month and I can show you the results.”

“I believe you.” Her voice was a whisper now. “I’m on the pill, too, just...so you know.” He looked at her with surprise. “For my migraines.”

Understanding dawned, then melted into a smile. And then he moved in to kiss her.

It was sweet at first, slow and warming her by degrees. Sophie felt flayed open, nerves exposed and raw - he now knew more of her secrets than any other living thing. 

His hands slipped beneath her shirt, tracing along her back, dancing along the edge of her bra without going beyond. She panted into his mouth, her body slowly losing its stiffness and softening against his hard form. His hands grew bolder, his lips moved harder against hers, and she began to feel like she was floating, breathless, lost. 

He kissed his way from her lips to a spot on her throat, just below her jaw, kissing warmth into her pulse. Then his voice was in her ear, low and possessive and confident. “Are you going to spend the night with me, Soph?”

In reply, she pointed to the floor by the front door where she’d dropped her overnight bag, and he made a noise in his throat that was almost like a triumphant growl, pulling her up with him in his arms as he stood. 

“Then let’s move to my bed.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Apparently I thought I posted this and only saved it as a draft. My brain is broken after the election. 
> 
> MORE TALKING I'm SORRY I like that part. :D But I apologize for the tease...

"Kiera, be serious."

"I am!" Her roommate unfolded her legs and went into the kitchen, tearing open the crinkly package of ramen and dropping it into the pot.

"Shit!" She popped her index finger in her mouth, a splash of boiling water having flown up and hit her.

Sophie followed her in, concerned. "Is it bad?"

"Nope." She popped the finger out again to show her. "And it's not bad that you want to sleep with Jake, either."

Sophie couldn't help but cringe. Kiera was so.. _.forthright._

"Don't give me that look. Honey, I love your parents but they gave you some serious complexes about relationships. It’s okay."

"I know it is." _Logically_ , at least. She knotted her fingers and slumped into a kitchen chair. "I just..."

"What are you afraid of? Really? That he'd hurt you? I know you haven't known him long, but I _have_. And I've heard things. He’s a good guy.”

“I know. He's been a perfect gentleman. But..." _Men will do and say anything to get what they want._ Her mother’s voice rang in her memory, making her shudder. "Honestly? Want to know what I’m really afraid of?" She sighed, miserably. “That this is all a big trick to get me to sleep with him, and once we do, he’ll ghost me.”

There. She said it.

Kiera stopped rummaging in the kitchen and stared at her. "You really like him, huh? This isn't just a one off for you."

Sophie shrugged miserably. They hadn't seen each other in a few days. He still texted her tidbits of his day here and there, but she knew he was waiting. 

Waiting for her to make the decision if this was going to be more.

Kiera’s concern turned to sympathy. "Honey, I can't tell you that won't happen, because it does. Men are frequently garbage. But I can tell you I’ve never heard of one of Jake’s relationships ending badly. And the girls _talk_ , believe me, I would have heard.” She paused to smash up her ramen with a wooden spoon, then turned back to Sophie. “But I will tell you that living in fear of the worst possible outcomes shouldn't stop you from enjoying the before parts. If you sleep together and he doesn’t call you back, _so what_? You enjoy yourself, you get your first major heartbreak out of the way, you go back to living. I know it seems insurmountable, but once you’ve done it, it gets easier.”

Sophie buried her head in her arms, voice muffled by her sleeves. “Somehow this isn’t helping.” 

Kiera made a sympathetic click with her tongue and came to sit beside her at the table. Her voice gentled. “Why can't your ‘what ifs’ be good ones? What if he makes you feel safe and comfortable? What if nothing goes badly and you were worried about nothing? What if it's amazing?"

“Why do you remember the stuff my therapist said better than I do?” Kiera was being deliberately kind, and deliberately _not_ crass, which is how Sophie knew she was being sincere.

Kiera rubbed her shoulders, comforting. “I won't pry, because I know it makes you clam up. But if there are things you don't want to do yet, tell him. You can go at your own pace. That’s kind of how this how thing works. There’s a lot of talking, and you both agree what’s what before anything goes down.”

“I’m just not really a risk taker.”

Kiera laughed. “That’s an understatement. Look, I’m not gonna pressure you. But you seem to say no to a lot of things you’d actually like to do because you’re afraid something bad might happen. If you actually do want this - I’m just trying to tell you that I think this the safe kind of risk.” 

Sophie chewed on her bottom lip a moment, then nodded and picked up her phone.

  
  


\---

  
  
  


Jake was in a particular sort of agony. 

Texting was her preferred method of communication. He was slow at it - his fingers too big to hit the right key the first time and was mostly an exercise in frustration. But she had a thing about talking on the phone, so texting it was. 

He’d come to associate that little _ding_ with her name, and was almost ashamed at how quickly he’d been snatching his phone up lately every time he got a message. It had never been her. 

He’d pushed her a little the last time they were together. Maybe too far. She was skittish, and now he knew why. 

A virgin. A fucking _virgin._ He inhaled through his teeth, remembering. Not just new to his way of doing things, but to _everything._

He’d left the ball in her court. It was the right thing to do. 

And he was honestly afraid she’d decided not to play with him after all.

But then his phone vibrated on his desk, and he actually jumped to get it. The letters of her name were almost magical, an incantation that’d he manifested into reality. 

"I want to see you tonight. If you’re free.”

Jake sucked in a breath, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention. She was off today, but he'd had to work. The cubicle farm of his office was quiet at the moment. Everyone was bent over their notes and pecking away at ancient desktops. “I can wrap things up here around six. I’d love to see you. If you're sure.”

“I am. Just..nervous.” 

Something odd twisted in his chest. He'd assumed she's been in at least one relationship, just maybe not for a while. Not that she was a _virgin._

That probably should have made him pause. He hadn’t been with someone with so little experience since high school. But...

Ever since, he’d been picturing how he'd ease her into it. Calming her nerves while undressing her. Reassuring her. How he’d draw out from her what she needed, finding just the right way to…

Someone cleared his throat nearby, interrupting Jake’s sordid thoughts. 

She hadn’t said anything more. She was probably over thinking things at this very moment. His finger hovered over the keypad, and for once he struggled with what to tell her. Anything he wanted to say sounded superficial. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Soph.”

He wished he could be with her, tell her in person what she wanted to say. He imagined her at home, laying in bed while talking to him. He's never seen her room before but could guess: a twin bed pushed into a corner, room overriding with stacks of books - some of them with saucy covers of half dressed Highlanders. She'd be tucked under a quilt - he'd seen how she had admired the craftsmanship of the quilt his grandma had made him as a graduation gift - and thinking about needing her in bed with _him_ instead.

“I’m going to email you something. They call it a contract, but it’s not legally binding, just an agreement between us .I just want to know your boundaries, what you’re looking to get out of of this. Can you send it back to me before I see you?”

“Yes.” Her answer was almost immediate. 

“Good girl.” He’d typed and sent it without a second thought. He quickly pulled up a file on his phone - a really basic introductory contract that he used for one-off scenes - and made a few edits before sending it her way. “I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

\---

  
  


Sophie was afraid she might actually throw up. The whole drive over, her entire body shook. 

But it was a _good_ kind of nerves, this time. At least, she thought so. Something inside her was clenched tight all day, nervous and anticipated but _excited,_ too. 

She’d actually been able to fill out the contact pretty quickly, her nervous hands needing something to do while waiting for evening to come. It wasn’t as long as she’d expected, first of all. She’d been thinking about this a long time, and quickly marked out the things she wasn’t interested in. He defined a few terms in his email. There were hard no’s for things she never wanted to do; soft no’s for maybe later, not right now, or things she might be convinced to change her mind about. Yes with reservations - he’d added that option just for her - and unequivocal “yes”. There was a place to list triggers or areas of her body she didn’t want touched.

Looking at the list after she was finished, she was suddenly dismayed. She had marked a lot of “no.” Nothing gross. No blood. No humiliation. Nothing in public. No use of pain implements. 

He was going to take one look at her and say, “Sorry, sweetheart. Turns out we’re looking for different things.” 

Heart in her throat, she raised her hand to knock at his door, but it swung open on its own. And at Jake’s warm, tender smile, her body automatically eased its trembling.

“Hey,” she said, smiling, flooded with relief.

“Hey.” He grinned, and took her hand to pull her into a kiss that literally made her toes curl. 

He led her to the couch and sat down, holding her in his lap. It was a little unfamiliar, uncomfortable, at first. Her breath was hard to catch, even though she was sitting still. Her mind buzzed, unable to stay on any subject that wasn’t the huge reality of him. 

And then he spoke, and her brain keyed into his voice like it was the only thing that mattered.

“I read your form.”

She tensed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that --”

“It’s about what I expected, to be honest.”

She twisted to look at him, brow furrowed. “It is?”

His smile was doing wonders for her nerves. “It is. But I still want to discuss some things face to face. I’m going to ask you some questions that might embarrass you. You can just say yes or no, if you want. You might not know how you feel, and that’s fine. We can always stop if need be. And you’re not going to offend me by your answers, no matter what you might think.“

“Okay." She nodded once, her hands in tight fists, steadying herself. “Go ahead.”

“Easy, baby. Just going to talk for now, okay?” He noticed, stroking the back of one hand gently until she relaxed it. “I want to blindfold you. Do you have any problems with that?”

She inhaled sharply. “Not...specifically.”

His voice continued in a gentle, steady cadence, like he was talking about the boring intricacies of court. “It can usually go one of two ways with people. It takes some power and agency away. Some people like not knowing what’s coming next. The surprise, the anticipation is exciting. For you, I think it would help ground you in your body and help you shut off your brain a little. Not worry so much about the external, what's going on around you.”

As he said it, she could picture it. And it made something twist deep inside. “We can try that.”

“So, safewords. I know it was on the form - we can use “red” unless you want something different. And for now if you say no, or wait, anything like that, I'll still pause and check in. But it can be handy to have something that you know will stop everything, no questions asked. Not to mention some people have hangups about the word no, or want to be able to roleplay nonconsensual stuff where I ignore their no. For you though, anything will work to put on the brakes unless we've specifically discussed it first. I also can safeword _for_ you if I think you need it. Or even if I might need it.”

“Why would you…?”

“If I start to doubt your consent, maybe. If I think you want to say no but won’t. It hasn't happened that someone has triggered any of my hard limits, but it's possible.” He laughed a little. “Probably not with you, though.”

“Probably not.”

“If I check in, I want a verbal response. If you don't think you can speak for whatever reason, you can tap three times instead.”

“What if…” she licked her lips, her mouth dry.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

She made herself say it, the deep fear in her heart, but it only came out as a whisper. “What if I mess up?”

A rumble went through his chest and he stroked up and down her back. “You can’t. You will always be safe with me. If something _gets_ messed up, it's on me, not you. That's the point of power exchange. I take responsibility. You are absolved of any. Got that? So no cause to be embarrassed.”

She hid a smile into his shirt, her heart thumping in a different way now. “Okay.”

“If I tell you to do something, I want it done. If you fight me or resist, I'll make you, unless you safeword. If you have a question or aren't clear on what I want, you can ask. But I'm not going to ask permission in scenes; I’m just going to do what I want in the moment. That's why we talk about it ahead of time, so there isn't negotiating during the scene.”

“I understand.”

“Anything you absolutely sure you don’t want to do, other than what you mentioned on the form?”

She tried to steady her breathing before she spoke. He stroked her back, encouragingly, while she got her courage up. “I don't want to be... Like, treated like an animal. I don't want to wear a collar or sit at your feet. I hope... I'm not being offensive.”

Tucked under his chin like she was, she couldn’t see his face - which was both easier and harder. She resisted the urge to pull away and check his expression, and instead tried to concentrate on the rhythmic movement of his hand along her spine. “No, sweetheart. I'm glad you're able to be honest about what you don't want. What if I put my hand around your throat, gently? Or say "good girl"?”

She swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. Those two words in his voice made her… 

“That's okay,” she said.” I… think I might like that.”

He squeezed her to him tight, then eased. “Good to know. Anything else?”

“Nothing to do with food.”

That made him curious, but he’d let it be for now. “No problem.”

“I’m not sure I can do, like...real pain. Right now.”

“That’s fine. I won’t hurt you. What about, like, a teasing sort of pain?” His fingers dug into her back a little more, scratching her skin over the fabric of her cardigan.

She actually arched her back into the sensation, unconsciously. “I’m...open.”

He pulled her tighter to him, his fingers stroking through her hair until she relaxed a little more. “Is that all, baby?”

She nodded, then remembered he wanted her to say it. “Think so.”

“So, last thing. Standard disclaimers: I always use condoms. I get tested once a month and I can show you the results.”

“I believe you.” Her voice was a whisper now. “I’m on the pill, too, just...so you know.” He looked at her with surprise. “For my migraines.”

Understanding dawned, then melted into a smile. And then he moved in to kiss her.

It was sweet at first, slow and warming her by degrees. Sophie felt flayed open, nerves exposed and raw - he now knew more of her secrets than any other living thing. 

His hands slipped beneath her shirt, tracing along her back, dancing along the edge of her bra without going beyond. She panted into his mouth, her body slowly losing its stiffness and softening against his hard form. His hands grew bolder, his lips moved harder against hers, and she began to feel like she was floating, breathless, lost.

He kissed his way from her lips to a spot on her throat, just below her jaw, kissing warmth into her pulse. Then his voice was in her ear, low and possessive and confident. “Are you going to spend the night with me, Soph?”

In reply, she pointed to the floor by the front door where she’d dropped her overnight bag, and he made a noise in his throat that was almost like a triumphant growl, pulling her up with him as he stood. 

“Then let’s move to my bed.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I just have not been able to get this chapter the way I wanted it to go. Writer's block makes me second guess every sentence. 
> 
> Standard disclaimers, hasn't been beta'd.

**Jake and sophie**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\---

She was in his arms only for a few seconds - the walk down dark hall to his bedroom wasn’t a long distance - but in that time she’d already felt herself start to change. When he’d literally swept her off her feet, carrying her off bridal-style, something in her said  _ yes.  _

She’d do what he wanted her to do. More important - she’d let herself do what she wanted to do.

Jake set her down on her feet just past the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him. She stood stiffly, mouth dry. The door closing had a very certain finality to it.

“Wait here.”

She did as she was told, watching him warily, heart racing, as he went to his bedside table and returned with a length of black silk. 

The blindfold. 

She closed her eyes, letting him settle it over her. The silk was soft and fine, but sewn double over her eyes, well and truly blocking her sight. 

“How is it?” he asked, his voice a purr in her ear after he’d tied it securely around the back of her skull.

“Good,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper. There had been no rise of panic. No claustrophobia. He was right: she was utterly grounded in her body, ears desperately searching for every sound he made. She felt like she was floating in a dark space. The pressure to do something meaningful with her hands, her face - all gone. She could simply  _ be. _

His hands were at her waist, slipping beneath her top, sliding it up and up and then over her head, gingerly avoiding the blindfold. She gasped to feel the cold air hit her skin, a thrill of goosebumps erupting over her arms. 

“Cold?” he asked in that husky voice, his hands running lightly down her forearms - then cupping her breasts, feeling the hard peak of her nipples beneath the thin fabric. 

“Mm,” she could only whimper helplessly, head rushing with sensation. 

Then, fingers unbuttoning her pants. Pulling down the zipper, ever-so-slowly. Her thighs trembled, her body shaking, as he rolled the pants down her - taking her underwear with it.

She whimpered again, feeling bare and exposed and unprepared. He balanced her hips and guided her, with a hand around each ankle to step out of her clothes. And then his hands were suddenly gone, and she felt bereft and adrift, wanting to cover herself from his gaze. She stood, bare and shivering, biting at her bottom lip. She heard him shift, but couldn't sense where he was in the room.

Then, a light touch on the middle of her back - and her bra unfastened, loosening down her front. His fingers lightly drew the straps down her arms and it fell to the floor in a soft  _ thush. _

Her heartbeat was so  _ loud.  _ Could he hear it?

A soft kiss on her shoulder, then his hands snaked around her waist, cupping her breasts in his hands, molding them, massaging. Her head fell weakly back against his chest and he was there, steady and still fully clothed, encouraging her to lean against him. His hands moved expertly against her body, stoking a deep, flourishing pulse between her shivering thighs. "I've got you. Relax."

He gently withdrew and circled around her again. She could only imagine how he was staring at her, fully nude before him. 

She didn’t have time to feel afraid or embarrassed. His mouth was on hers again, suddenly and fully taking her breath, hot and wet and open. "Such a good girl for me. So perfect. You're so fucking beautiful, Sophie."

She bit her bottom lip and whimpered unconsciously at the words, inner muscles tightening to the point of pain. Did he know how much she needed to hear those words? 

His hands stroked over her bare breasts, the sensation both comforting and inflaming, and she felt herself being urged backwards - until the edge of the bed hit the back of her thighs and she fell backwards onto soft blankets. A thrill of fear went through her and she helped - but his hand was there to cradle her head. He'd planned it. He wouldn't let her fall.

Her brain could hardly comprehend that was happening. The sensory input of the cool silk of his sheets, the foreign, manly scent of them, the blindfold - it took her a moment to realize that his hands were wrapped around her ankles and he was kissing the tops of her thighs. She had unconsciously clenched heregs together tight.

"Open up for me, baby." He kissed the insides of her knees, as far as he could reach, soothingly. "Or I'll do it for you."

The thought sent another thrill racing to her center. She wanted both - to be good, and to struggle.

"Nervous? Or do you want to fight me? I can make you. I don't mind working for it." 

_ Yes, god, please.  _

She could only manage a nod, but whether that was to give him permission or admit nerves, she couldn’t say. He took it for both.

A low, pleased growl emanated from his throat, and then his hands were around her knees, so  _ tight _ , pulling them apart. Her strength couldn't match his on her best day, and he wrestled her thighs apart while she writhed. She liked this more than she'd ever anticipated. 

He kissed the inside of her thigh, his breath skating across her clitoris, making her gasp and dig her nails into the blanket. "You're still my good girl. Let me do what I want, baby." His hands held her hips steady, pressing her firmly to the mattress, and the tip of his hot tongue touched her throbbing clit, making her buck. 

God! Just that one tiny touch had felt like an explosion. A sensation she’d never even imagined, overwhelming and frightening in its intensity.

She felt unsteady, restless, unsure. She wanted  _ this,  _ but her mind still wouldn't shut off. Should she be touching him? Saying something? Was he  _ actually enjoying this?  _ His hot tongue on her felt amazing, but there was something uncomfortable and large blocking the pleasure from reaching her brain. 

She wriggled beneath him, both from pleasure and from some strange discomfort that he could  _ see  _ her... _ smell  _ her...her mind was filled with intrusive thoughts of what he must be thinking.

As if reading her mind, his body was suddenly over hers, a kiss taking her by surprise. 

"Mmm. I love doing this to you. I'm going to make you come like this, Sophie." 

He wet his finger in his mouth - she heard it - and then touched his fingertip to the burning, aching peak of her, sliding ever so slowly down to the opening of her body, which was trembling and aching and hot. He smiled his finger around, circling, running over the top without pushing in. She couldn't help the way her hips moved with him, her legs trembling. Couldn't believe how wet she ready felt. 

"You've never had anyone else inside you, have you?"His voice was warm and gentle and demanding and aroused, all at once. She shook her head. 

He didn't tell her to speak, only continued his finger’s slow exploration of her most intimate places, stoking little fires along the way. "I can't wait to touch you where you've never been touched before, baby. I'm going to take such good care of you."

She squeezed her eyes tight behind the blindfold,  _ want _ ing and fearing so much at once. Her hands roamed the sheets restlessly, seeking some useful task, but too afraid to lift up and touch him. He hadn't invited her too, and it felt forbidden.

He seemed to notice her anxious hands, because on the next moment he had captured both wrists, drawing her arms up over her head. She could feel her own wetness on his fingers and felt lewd and exposed, but his knees were trapping her thighs open, the cool air of the room reaching the place where she was hot and wet inside. 

He kissed her once and then she felt soft straps securing around her wrists, the unmistakable sound of velcro as he tied her. She tested the bindings, subtle, and with a thrill realized she was trapped. 

Hands were useless.Out of commission. She stopped struggling.

"That's my good girl. All you can do is lay there and take what I give you. Too tight?"

He spoke against her lips, hands moving again to her breasts, kneading and massaging, pleasure making her arch into him. She licked her lips, her mouth dry from breathing so heavily. "No."

"They shouldn't. But tell me if you start to feel pins and needles. I can get you out. But otherwise, you’ll stay like this

_ Yes, sir.  _ It was only in her head - she wasn't brave enough to say it out loud. Wasn't sure that was a place she wanted to go. But the rightness of it...her, bound and naked open beneath him...it was something out of her fantasy. "Okay." God, her mouth was so dry. Her voice didn't even sound like hers.

She felt tethered, now. Safe and secure in the place he’d put her, exactly right - where she couldn’t possibly mess anything up. She couldn’t get away - and she didn’t want to.

He shifted above her, and belatedly she realized he was unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it away. When he laid atop her again, bare skin against bare skin, it took her breath away. "Mm. I've wanted you like this for so long, baby." His mouth closed over one nipple and she gasped and arched with surprise. She's never daydreamed about this - had never found it enticing at all - but the reality was…

"Oh!"

He didn't let up, sucking and rolling her nipple inside his mouth, tongue flicking, each stroke sending a shock of pleasure straight to her sex, where desperate pulsing was growing hotter and stronger.

When she didn’t think she could take it anymore, suddenly two fingers pressed into her, parting swollen flesh. The ache of it burned, but by now she was slick and the tight, unused muscles didn’t protest so much. He seemed to fill her, pressure mounting against the very deepest places she’d always yearned for but never managed to reach herself - fingers stroking in and out in an unyielding, tireless rhythm. 

Then his mouth covered her clitoris, sucking gently into impossible, undulating heat, and finally she fell over the edge with a wordless cry, arching up into him uncontrollably. Bound to the bed only by her wrists and his weight pinning her thighs. Her inner muscles convulsed around his fingers, finding the resistance there impossibly thrilling - and she came longer and harder than she’d ever done before. 

As she came back down, slowly, heart still hammering and head swimming, she realized his mouth had left her but his fingers remained, gently pressing in and pulling out without leaving her body entirely. 

And, impossible as it seemed having  _ just  _ had the orgasm of her life, she already felt another one building on its heels. 

He let her catch her breath, and then he shifted again, coming up to kiss her sweetly. She could taste the ghost of herself on her lips and the thought was odd but not off-putting. “Such a good girl,” he breathed, the praise calming some of the rising anxiety. 

With his fingers still inside her, she blushed furiously. She wanted his words. She was frightened of them.  _ How could she be good when she’d just let him do  _ that? 

Then the blindfold loosened and slipped from her eyes. Dazed, she blinked at his bleary face, feeling like she’d just woken from a nice dream to an odd reality. 

But no - he was shirtless now, eyes boring into hers, pupils dilated. His hand still moved slowly between her thighs, though it was beginning to ache. “Do you still want me, Sophie? Or have you had enough for tonight?”

_ God.  _ There could be more. So much more. 

Breathless, she could only nod - then remembered his rule about speaking aloud. “Want you,” she whispered, feeling like she was floating, like she wasn’t fully moored to the earth. 

His kiss was sudden and swift, bruising her lips, and over just as quickly. His hand left her body empty, and her eyes slid closed as she tried to mentally prepare herself for what was coming. He shifted off the bed. She heard the rest of his clothes drop the floor. Then the mattress dipped, rolling her slightly to the side.

“Look at me.”

A command. She obeyed. 

His eyes were full of lust. He was panting slightly, fully naked on the bed next to her. He put on a condom, making sure she watched. Some part of her recognized that he did this on purpose. Then he gripped the back of her head and dipped his head low to hers. “I want to fuck your mouth so fucking bad. But I don’t think I can last that long.” He claimed her mouth in a kiss, a promise for next time. And then he moved between her legs - parting her thighs wide to accommodate his hips. 

The hot blunt edge of his sex nudged against her folds, sliding up and down, and she could not  _ fathom  _ how that was going to fit inside her. She couldn’t help it. Her entire body tightened; her eyes screwed shut. Her breathing went shallow, anticipating pain.

And then he was kissing her again, slow and sweet, taking his time. “Baby,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be scared. Just relax. You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He nudged against her, a little harder, and she gasped. “Breathe,” he said. “You don’t have to protect yourself. Don’t fight me.”

Somehow his words broke through the buzzing panic growing in her mind, and she breathed deep and slow, loosening her body. He continued gently nudging against her, up and down and retreating, letting her relax...until the stroke where he pressed against her opening with steady aim and purpose, and pushed inside.

She struggled to reign in her instinct to clamp down, to stop him from going any further, but her body wanted to rebel. “Shh, shh,” he was whispering in her ear. “Relax, baby.”

He held still until she’d taken a few unsteady breaths, already feeling the alien sensation of his width holding her open. And then he pushed a little deeper, where she was tighter, and a pinching feeling made her gasp and claw at the bindings. 

He kissed her neck soothingly, as he withdrew a little, then pushed in further still. He continued like that for what felt like forever, inching deeper and deeper, opening her, until finally she felt the intense pressure at the deepest part of herself. An ache began to bloom slowly from where her inner muscles gripped him, clenching experimentally and finding resistance everywhere.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, unaware she was speaking - having almost forgotten she had the ability to speak at all. Every nerve in her body sang. Every sensation overflowed. His weight between her thighs as he held himself utterly still. The coldness seeping into her fingers. The constriction around her wrists. And the intense fulfillment inside her. She’d never realized how empty she had felt until now, in the most purely physical way. The thickness pressing into her, opening her, was both too much and absolutely perfect, just on this side of painful. She reminded herself to breathe.

“Fuck, yes, Sophie,” Jake growled. He kept his weight on his forearms but lifted up to look at her. His eyes were glazed over; it was a side of him she’d never seen before. “Are you okay?”

Without breaking eye contact, she nodded, and he fixed his mouth over her nipple, sucking hard, then pinching the other hard enough she gasped and twisted as best she could away from him. He let go, his hips thrusting into her as if by reflex. “That’s my good girl.” 

He started slow, hips undulating deep, cock pressing gently against her cervix and then barely retreating. Sophie couldn’t help the sounds she made; soft mewls and gasps and tiny moans that she tried to hide. He was so big inside her, stretching her open. Taking control of her body, making her his. 

By degrees she felt her inner muscles ease; spasms that shot pain deep inside faded to pleasure, and his strokes became longer, harder. Until he was fucking her in earnest, hard and fast, each thrust bouncing her breasts and making her gasp. 

Jake groaned suddenly, his hips slamming deep into her one final time and holding there, jerking. She felt him come with a dazed sense of wonder. It was an odd, vulnerable sort of power, to have a man between your legs lose himself in you.

She was tied to the bed and hadn’t yet even touched him. And  _ still… _

He slipped out of her body - making her feel oddly empty again - and collapsed beside her, panting for air, and she felt cool air hit the sweat between her breasts and on her thighs. He rolled away briefly, cleaned himself up, and then his hands were gently releasing her from the bindings, rubbing at her cold skin with circling fingertips. 

He pulled her naked body against his and covered them both with the blanket, foreheads pressed together, arm draped protectively over her body.

She hadn’t yet regained the ability to speak. Instead, she slipped an arm around his middle, marvelling at the toned muscles she’d only barely even seen, and stroked his back shyly. 

“Mm,” he said after a while, smiling against her lips. His voice was thick. “How do you feel?”

Her voice felt creaky. “A little sore. But….good.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. She  _ was  _ content - happy, even. Her body was pleasantly sore and buzzing with the aftershocks. She felt hazy and exhausted in the best sort of way. 

But now that the hormones were fading, her mind was swirling. What would this mean for them? What if he changed after tonight? What would it be like to face him in the morning? God, how could she  _ possibly _ after what he’d just seen and heard and  _ tasted  _ from her? 

Those thoughts were interrupted as he pulled her tighter against him. “Good. Proud of you, baby. You did so good.”

The warmth of his words filled her heart, a reassuring balm she didn’t know she needed. “Jake, I…”

He waited for her to finish, and when she didn’t, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and settled her head against his shoulder, making it clear he didn’t want her going anywhere. The physical reassurance of his body helped calm her somewhat. He hadn’t rejected her yet.“Shh. It’s okay. We can talk in the morning.” His breathing was already deep and slow, eyes closed, even as his fingers traced idle circles against her bare arm. “Now, go to sleep.”

And surprisingly, she did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, huh?
> 
> Still not sure I'm happy with this chapter; might go through and edit later. Otherwise, going to take a short break to update until after the new year. Have safe holidays, guys.


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